


Where the Water Meets the Sky

by baeconandeggs, elidure



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Adventure, Fantasy, M/M, Royalty, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-13
Updated: 2018-06-13
Packaged: 2019-05-21 22:54:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 38,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14924411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baeconandeggs/pseuds/baeconandeggs, https://archiveofourown.org/users/elidure/pseuds/elidure
Summary: As their kingdoms stand on the brink of war, princes Chanyeol and Baekhyun must work together to uncover a conspiracy targeted at provoking conflict between their nations.





	Where the Water Meets the Sky

**Author's Note:**

> **Prompt #:** BAE641  
>  **Disclaimer: baeconandeggs/the mods is/are not the author/s of this story. Authors will be credited and tagged after reveals.** The celebrities' names/images are merely borrowed and do not represent who the celebrities are in real life. No offense is intended towards them, their families or friends. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this fictional work. No copyright infringement is intended.
> 
>  **Author's Note:** have to admit that i took a little liberty with interpreting the prompt, so rather than at war, they’re on the brink of war, so there’s a lot more room for drama & angst. (but close enough, i hope) vineta, baltia, kêr-ys and lemuria are all names of mythological/lost cities; three of them are sunken cities, i’ll let you figure out which :-) hope you enjoy this story!

* * *

**i.**

_deos fortioribus adesse_ — the gods favour those with strength.

* * *

_Breathe._

A light breeze brushed the top of his head, ruffling his hair slightly. Chanyeol’s body was humming with energy, alert to the minutest of sensations: the texture of the smooth rosewood beneath his calloused fingertips, the wispy feather-vanes tickling his cheek, the taut bowstring against his lips. 

_Breathe._

One eye was closed; the other gazed steadily down the narrow shaft of the arrow, past the tip, straight at the circular target across the field. _Breathe._ Chanyeol took a slow, measured breath, steadied his arm, and released the bowstring. The arrow sliced through the air and thudded into the wooden target, a mere fraction of a centimetere away from the bullseye. 

The crowd of onlookers immediately burst into a smattering of applause. Clustered around the fence that surrounded the field were Lemurians from all walks of life; whether poor, wealthy, young or old, they were all keen to witness the tournament between Lemuria and Baltia’s finest sportsmen, an age-old tradition that purportedly occurred once every hundred years as part of their friendly rivalry. Lowering his bow, Chanyeol glanced over his shoulder towards. A large white tent had been set up a few yards behind him, under which sat the reigning monarchs of both nations, surrounded by servants. In truth, the tournament was only one of the reasons why the Lemurians had assembled so eagerly — the other was to see the young queen of Baltia, rumoured to be the most beautiful woman in all the Four Kingdoms. 

She certainly looked regal enough, sitting stiffly under the awning, shoulder-to-shoulder with the elderly king of Lemuria, but Chanyeol knew that his sister would rather be standing in his place out in the field, wearing light armour rather than being hung with jewellery. He dropped both arms to his side and bowed deeply, as was expected of all challengers in the tournament; when he glanced up, Yoora gave him the same benevolent smile that she had given all the others, but the unimpressed look in her eyes told him, _I could have done better._ Chanyeol smothered a laugh. 

“Forty-eight points!” cried the umpire from where he was standing next to the target, and the crowd burst out once more into polite applause. Chanyeol bowed once more, this time to the audience, then crossed over to the tent where he reassumed his position behind his sister’s seat, handing his bow to a nearby servant. 

“Excellent shot, Prince Chanyeol,” the man standing to Chanyeol’s left, behind the Lemurian king, offered with a smile. Crown Prince Junmyeon was a pleasant-faced young man about half a head shorter than Chanyeol; his slender figure told the younger prince at a glance that Junmyeon had never been trained in combat. True enough, the crown prince went on to say, “I’ve never been one for sports; it’s always been my younger brother who’s the athlete. He’s your age, I believe — you’re eighteen, aren’t you?” 

Chanyeol nodded, and tried to sound interested. “Oh, I see. Is he a challenger in today’s tournament?” 

“Yes, but he hasn’t competed yet.” Prior to competing, all the challengers were required to wait at a separate tent; Chanyeol’s royal duties and required presence at his sister’s side had made him an exception. Junmyeon ’s eyes rested on the challengers’ tent in the distance. “He’s participating in the archery competition, though, so he should be out soon.”

At this point, the umpire cried out, “Second Prince Baekhyun!” 

Almost immediately, the Lemurian spectators went wild, erupting in uproarious cheers. Chanyeol glanced up to see a slender figure striding across the field towards the royals’ tent, bow in hand. Coming to a stop a short distance away, the figure sank into a low bow, at which the elderly king raised his hand in acknowledgement. “Here he is now,” Junmyeon murmured to Chanyeol, who watched as Baekhyun straightened once more with a smile on his lips and turned to face his fans. The cheering intensified, only to die out immediately when the second prince held up his hands for silence. In spite of himself, Chanyeol was slightly impressed.

Baekhyun turned to face the target, gazing at it for all of one second. In one fluid motion he plucked an arrow from the quiver strung across his back and nocked it effortlessly. Another beat, and he released. Chanyeol watched incredulously as the arrow pierced the bullseye almost lazily; even his sister gave a start in her seat. The crowd waited with bated breath as the umpire scrambled towards the target and hastily set about checking the shot. A minute ticked by, and then another. 

“Fifty points!” 

The audience burst out in tumultuous applause, and Baekhyun turned around to face his father, repeating the customary bow first to the king and then to the assembled citizens. Chanyeol watched him with a sense of inexplicable intrigue, finding himself unable to take his eyes off the other prince. When Baekhyun stood up once more with face flushed and eyes sparkling, the two princes locked gazes momentarily. Chanyeol could’ve sworn he saw something change in Baekhyun’s gaze, noticed an almost imperceptible lift in his eyebrows.Or had he imagined the challenge? Before he could attempt to read the other prince’s expression any further, the latter turned swiftly on his heel and headed in the opposite direction as the crowd continued to cheer.

“He’s such a show-off,” Junmyeon commented, almost apologetically, but Chanyeol could hear the pride in the former’s voice. His own eyes remained fixed on the retreating figure striding across the field back towards the challengers’ tent amidst the clamourous laudation. 

“Well, he has a right to be.” 

Junmyeon laughed. “He’s not bad, I suppose. Still, this is no time for displays of arrogance, especially since we are gathered here today as friends, not enemies.” 

The inappropriateness of what Junmyeon termed ‘displays of arrogance’ appeared to be lost on his younger brother, who proceeded to nail nine further fifty-pointer bullseyes just as effortlessly. Chanyeol, despite his best efforts, came twenty points short of Baekhyun’s perfect score by the end of the ten rounds, emerging second. When he returned to the royals’ tent at the end of the archery event with the silver laurels resting on his brow, his sister only smiled at his moody expression. After a cursory glance at their surroundings to ensure no one was listening — the king on her left was currently speaking with Junmyeon and a few of his retainers — Yoora permitted herself a laugh. “I’ve never seen someone best you at archery before, and so facilely, either,” she teased.

“Well, sorry to have disappointed you, your Royal Majesty.” 

Yoora laughed again. “Don’t be such a sore loser, Yeol.” As she spoke, she glanced over Chanyeol’s shoulder at Baekhyun, still standing out in the field, reveling in the deafening cheers of his subjects which conveniently drowned out their affectionate exchange. “Though that Second Prince Baekhyun certainly is something,” she remarked thoughtfully. “I’ve never seen someone handle the bow with such ease and accuracy.” 

“High praise from the best archer in Baltia,” her brother noted drily, removing the silver laurels from his head and turning them over in his hands. 

Yoora smiled. “Stop sulking and go get ready for your next event.” 

But Chanyeol’s next event, long-sword combat, was one of the last, meaning that he was free to spectate as Baekhyun proceeded to claim the gold laurels in jousting, short-sword combat, _and_ hand-to-hand combat. With every set of gold laurels that was placed on his already golden hair Baekhyun’s smile seemed to grow even more dazzling until it was almost painful to look at. The crowd’s sheer adoration of their young prince did nothing to aid Chanyeol’s mood, which continued to deteriorate well into the evening. 

“Look,” he complained aloud to his retinue as he was being dressed for his first long-sword duel in a private tent a short distance away from the challengers’ tent. Chanyeol pointed through the open doorway of the tent at Baekhyun, who was beaming as he received his fifth set of gold laurels, a handsome spotted falcon perched on his leather-clad forearm. Needless to say, the crowd was still cheering madly; it seemed to Chanyeol as if they hadn’t stopped screaming all day. “Even his _falcon_ is perfect.”

“Hold still, please,” Kyungsoo commanded from behind him; Chanyeol obediently stood still as his aide adjusted his cuirass for him and fastened the two metal plates in place. “You know,” Kyungsoo continued,“if you keep on saying things like that, someone’s going to think you’re jealous.” Having finished securing the cuirass, he lifted a silver pauldron embossed with the crest of the royal family of Baltia off a nearby table and gestured for Chanyeol to extend his right arm. 

“Jealous? No way; Yeol sounds like he’s in love.” Chanyeol looked up and scowled at the figure standing near the open doorway; with a chuckle, Sehun released the linen door-flap, which swung over the entrance, obscuring Baekhyun from view. “Finally met your match, eh, your Highness?” 

The prince grimaced. “I wish you didn’t sound so pleased, Sehun.” 

“Me? Never,” responded Sehun airily as he crossed over to Chanyeol and clapped him on the shoulder; armour clanking, Chanyeol sent him a silent glare in response. “Now, your Highness, instead of tiring yourself out by getting angry at me, why don’t you conserve some of that energy and use it to win the event, hmm?” 

* * *

_Breathe._

Chanyeol could hear his own heavy breaths echoing in his ears, feel his heart hammering in his chest, sense the adrenaline pumping through his veins. Across the circular arena his armoured opponent seemed to move in slow-motion, charging towards him with sword aloft as though running through water; pre-empting his strike, Chanyeol lifted his own sword, catching the blow on the shoulder of his blade. The clang of metal rang out, and his opponent bore down on him, forcing him lower and lower to the ground. Chanyeol caught the glimmer of victory in the other man’s eyes through the visor of his helmet, and smiled. 

_Breathe._

Bracing his weight on one foot, he abruptly swung out from under the other man, pivoting to the right; the sudden disappearance of obstruction caused his opponent to lose his balance momentarily and stumble forwards. That moment of weakness was all Chanyeol needed; in a moment he had yanked his blade sideways, causing the other’s sword to slide off the edge, pivoted on the same ankle and brought his sword in a slicing movement downwards. The other man, now on the sand, turned his head back just in time to be greeted by the point of Chanyeol’s blade, directly at his throat.

As the umpire proclaimed Chanyeol’s victory over the cheers of the crowd, the prince removed his helmet and held a hand out to help the other man to his feet. “That was a neat trick,” the latter commented, propping up the visor of his helmet. Chanyeol could see that he was smiling. “A battle well fought, your Highness.” 

“Thank you.” The two exchanged bows, then turned and headed to opposite ends of the arena; Kyungsoo and Sehun were waiting for Chanyeol at the side.

“Well done, your Highness,” intoned Kyungsoo in a monotone as he took Chanyeol’s helmet from him and handed him a towel. “With that win, you’ll be advancing to the finals next.” 

“Come on, sound more excited, Kyungsoo,” Sehun said as he draped an arm over Chanyeol’s shoulder. “If you want to pay a compliment, at least do it enthusiastically. Anyway, great job, Yeol. Wonder who taught you that trick at the end?” 

“Kyungsoo, of course,” Chanyeol shot back, but he was grinning as he toweled the sweat from his hair. “Just one more battle till the gold laurels, eh?” 

“Someone’s confident,” Kyungsoo said drily. 

“Well, as long as it’s not that Second Prince —” abruptly, Sehun’s elbow jabbed into Chanyeol’s unguarded forearm, sharp enough to leave a bruise. Chanyeol broke off in the middle of his sentence and jerked back reflexively. “What the hell —” Sehun sent him a pointed look and jerked his head to the left; Chanyeol glanced over to see the very person they’d been speaking of readying himself for his next battle, accompanied by a single retainer who was checking his armour for him. 

“I’m sure everything’s alright, Minseok,” Baekhyun was saying. “Why don’t you go check on Jongdae instead? His ego might be too badly bruised after that battle.” Then he noticed that Chanyeol, Sehun and Kyungsoo were all staring in his direction, and trailed off into silence. His aide, Minseok, who was kneeling and examining the straps on the prince’s cuisse, half-turned to see what the latter was looking at, then returned to his task with nary a second glance at the trio standing a short distance away. 

Sehun and Kyungsoo turned away immediately, out of embarrassment and politeness respectively, but Chanyeol met Baekhyun’s gaze squarely as he had that morning during the archery tournament. This time there was no provocation in the latter’s eyes, only curiosity. And, Chanyeol mused, perhaps even a smidgen of respect. 

From the centre of the arena, the umpire announced, “Second Prince Baekhyun!” 

At this, Baekhyun tore his eyes from Chanyeol’s, brushed off Minseok’s last-minute ministrations, unsheathed his sword and headed into the combat arena as the cheering intensified. Chanyeol’s gaze continued to follow the other prince until he heard a low wolf-whistle from behind him. 

“What, Sehun?” 

Sehun looked as though he was trying hard not to laugh. “That was some pretty intense eye sex, your Highness.” Even Kyungsoo was attempting, and failing, to smother an amused smile. Chanyeol glowered at each of them in turn, then shoved his sword at Sehun, who automatically held out his hands to receive it. 

“Don’t talk rubbish, Sehun.” 

“I was merely commenting on the fireworks that both Kyungsoo and I witnessed,” Sehun returned breezily as the three of them made their way back towards Chanyeol’s tent, with the incensed prince in the lead as his two companions struggled to keep up with his strides. “I mean, some self-awareness would do you good, so you can avoid swooning later when you meet him in the finals.” 

True enough, when Chanyeol stepped back into the arena an hour later, the name that was announced in succession after his was none other than that of the Second Prince of Lemuria. By that time the sun had set, and night had descended on the field where the tournament was being held, but the circular arena was lined with flaming braziers that cast flickering shadows on the sand. At the far end of the field, the royals’ tent had been lit with torches as well; Chanyeol caught his sister’s gaze as he crossed the line of pebbles marking the arena’s boundary. _Fight well,_ her eyes seemed to say. _I will_ , his answered.

The two princes entered from opposite ends of the arena and came to a halt in the middle, on either side of the umpire; though most of Baekhyun’s face was obscured by his helmet, Chanyeol could still see the flames from the braziers glittering in his brown eyes. Somehow the sight of them strengthened his resolve; his fingers tightened automatically around the hilt of his sword. _I will not lose._

From the side of the arena came the sound of the oliphant, marking the start of the battle. Immediately the raucous crowd and their surroundings faded away; Chanyeol hefted his sword, keeping his eyes fixed on the armoured figure before him. 

_Breathe._

The duel started, as always, with a dance. The two princes began pacing the circumference of the arena, endlessly circling, never once taking their eyes off once another. Once Baekhyun paused, and his left leg twitched; sensing the move before the other prince executed it, Chanyeol mirrored him, pivoting on his right foot and feinting to the left before thrusting to the right. Baekhyun had not anticipated this; though momentarily stunned, he quickly fell back once more, and the two continued their circling. Chanyeol smiled. 

_Breathe._

Abruptly, Baekhyun lunged at his left side, but Chanyeol’s blade was already there, parrying the blow skilfully and knocking Baekhyun’s sword aside. He quickly followed up with a slash at Baekhyun’s midsection, but the latter leapt backwards, out of reach. Baekhyun took wary, measured steps backwards, as though wanting to resume their cautious pacing, but Chanyeol was tired of dancing. 

He leapt at Baekhyun’s right, swinging his sword in a slicing arc; the other prince deflected the blow on the edge of his blade, then ducked under Chanyeol’s arm, tumbling on his shoulder to emerge standing behind Chanyeol. But Chanyeol had anticipated this, and he whirled around, bringing his right leg around in a roundhouse kick that landed soundly in the centre of Baekhyun’s cuirass. Chanyeol’s sabaton glanced off Baekhyun’s breastplate with a hollow clang, but the force of the blow was enough to send the Second Prince of Lemuria stumbling backwards. 

Though the latter regained his balance soon after, brandishing his sword at his opponent, Chanyeol could see a slightly bewildered look in Baekhyun’s eyes through the visor of his helmet. Chanyeol permitted himself a smile. Though the other prince had claimed the gold laurels in hand-to-hand combat, he was clearly less agile dressed in full armour. But Chanyeol barely noticed the metal plates strapped to his body, as though it were merely a second skin. Sehun had always insisted that Chanyeol rarely train without armour, if ever at all. _The balance is very different_ , Sehun would say. _Once you’re used to it, if you ever get caught in a combat situation without armour, the absence of the burden will only be a bonus._

The duel dragged on in the same fashion — Baekhyun attacking, Chanyeol defending almost leisurely, returning the occasional blow. Neither prince managed to do any lasting damage to his opponent, but Chanyeol could tell that Baekhyun was tiring; the other prince’s lunges were becoming less sharp, less energetic, just the slightest bit more sluggish. All this while, Chanyeol merely kept a comfortable distance from his opponent, waiting for him to attack, letting him wear himself out slowly. 

About an hour had passed. No other battle had lasted this long, but the crowd was still on tenterhooks, shouting and yelling at even the slightest feint. Sweat was pouring down Chanyeol’s face, streaming down his back, but he refused to let his concentration falter for even a moment. Finally Baekhyun grew desperate, and he put all of his remaining energy into a final blow, feinting to the right and then bringing his sword in a deadly swinging arc at Chanyeol’s blind spot, towards his left temple. The force of the strike should have knocked Chanyeol to the ground and rendered him unconscious — if it had actually made contact with his helmet. 

But Chanyeol was ready. He caught Baekhyun’s blow on his crossguard, thrust the point of his sword upwards, twisted, and then pushed down with all of his body weight. Baekhyun’s sword fell from his fingers and skidded across the sand, coming to a stop a few metres away. He started towards it, only to be met by the edge of Chanyeol’s sword beneath his chin. 

“Yield,” Chanyeol said softly, but he was sure the other prince could hear him. Their eyes met for the briefest of seconds; it felt like an eternity. 

Then the spectators were cheering once more, and Chanyeol found himself suddenly surrounded by people; Kyungsoo was taking the sword from his hands and gently easing the helmet off his head, and Sehun was clapping him on the back, saying, “good stuff, wonder who taught you that disarming manoeuvre?” and there were other servants offering him clay canteens of water, and dabbing the sweat off his forehead. Chanyeol turned, trying to catch a glimpse of Baekhyun, but he, too, was surrounded by attendants, and Chanyeol couldn’t hear his voice over the roaring crowd. 

Out of nowhere the exhaustion set in, and Chanyeol lurched forward; he was caught by Kyungsoo and Sehun and other hands who supported and guided him across the arena. Suddenly he was being helped onto the podium, and Baekhyun was a step down, to his right; from where Chanyeol stood all he could see was the other prince’s golden head, already crowned with the silver laurels. The umpire placed the wreath of golden laurels on Chanyeol’s brow. As the audience erupted in tumultous applause, Chanyeol lifted his eyes to the night sky dotted with stars, and let out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. 

_Breathe._

* * *

**ii.**

_astra inclinant, sed non obligant_ — the stars incline us; they do not bind us.

* * *

By the time Chanyeol entered the banquet hall, showered and dressed, the post-tournament celebration was already in full swing. The banquet hall was slightly smaller than the one in Baltia, all red brick and brownstone, lit by warm light from the hanging braziers that lined the chamber. From the ceiling hung the red-and-gold banners of Lemuria and the silver-and-blue Baltian standards, side-by-side in a rare show of solidarity. Chanyeol paused where he was in the doorway and surveyed the festivities, instinctively comparing what he saw before him to the cold marble and ivory of the banquet hall back home, lit by thin, flickering candlelight from the massive wrought-iron chandeliers. Then again, the banquet hall at home had never been filled with so many people before; more often than not it was just him and his sister, seated at opposite ends of an impossibly long table, their laughs echoing in the empty hall as servants waited silently in the shadows.

The Lemurians had clearly spared no expense on the feast before him; the massive chamber was lined with what seemed like hundreds of tables piled high with platters and platters of Lemurian delicacies. A cursory glance told Chanyeol that the elderly king had thoughtfully included some traditional Baltian dishes for the visiting party. Servants pushed their way through the crowds bearing trays of golden goblets filled with an assortment of different-coloured liquors, and several groups of musicians were spaced throughout the hall, playing a lively Lemurian folksong in the background. The energy and exuberance that radiated from the scene before him made Chanyeol realise that, never in his eighteen years had he actually been to a _real_ party.

Sehun threw an arm over Chanyeol’s shoulder. “Looks like an excellent jamboree, eh, your Highness?” 

Before Chanyeol could respond, a female servant with a tray of goblets came to a stop before them. “Could I get you something to drink?” She smiled shyly at Chanyeol, evidently recognising him from the tournament earlier, before continuing, “you should try the fireflower liquor. It’s a local specialty, made only in Lemuria.” Her eyes remained on Chanyeol as she spoke.

“That sounds lovely,” Sehun interrupted, leaning forward and lifting a golden goblet of the amber liquid off her tray. “But not as lovely as you, of course,” he added, and the girl flushed. “What about you, your Highness?” he looked back at Chanyeol, who nodded. 

“I’ll have one too, in that case.” 

Still blushing furiously, the female servant handed a bejewelled goblet to Chanyeol, who nodded his thanks. After offering one to Kyungsoo, who declined politely, she curtsied and hurried off, nearly tripping over her velure skirts as she did so. 

“You scared her off,” Kyungsoo noted to Sehun once she was gone. Sehun let out a dismissive ‘pfft’. “No, it was his Highness who scared her off with his cold indifference when she _clearly_ was trying to flirt with him.” 

Chanyeol rolled his eyes. “No, she wasn’t.” At this, he received two pointed stares from both Kyungsoo and Sehun, and balked slightly. “Was she?” 

Sehun shook his head. “The almighty Prince Chanyeol, quite possibly the best swordsman in all of the Four Kingdoms, can’t even tell when a girl is flirting with him. Thank _God_ you have a sister, else Baltia would never have a royal heir.” 

Chanyeol ignored the jibe and took a sip of the amber liquid in the goblet he was holding. Immediately, warmth shot from his lips all the way to his toes, and he blinked at the sudden sensation. “Wow, that’s strong.” He was by no means a lightweight, but the Lemurians were clearly much heavier drinkers than the Baltians. As Sehun did the same, and then tried to force some liquor on Kyungsoo, who flatly refused, Chanyeol searched the hall for his sister. Yoora was sitting at the banquet table near the front of the hall, with the Lemurian king on one side and Junmyeon on the other. She was presently engaged in conversation with the Crown Prince, while his father looked on serenely. 

“Wonder if they’re going to announce it tonight,” Sehun was saying to Kyungsoo as Chanyeol turned back to face them. 

“Announce what?” 

“Queen Yoora’s engagement,” Kyungsoo answered evenly. Chanyeol laughed aloud, impressed at the fact that _Kyungsoo_ had made a joke, only to be met with two blank faces; he blanched as he realised Kyungsoo was being serious. _Of course, Kyungsoo never jokes._

“ _What_?! To _whom_?” 

“To Crown Prince Junmyeon. Come on, Yeol, you can’t be serious.” Sehun’s voice was incredulous. “I’m sure Queen Yoora mentioned it to you before at _least_ once, if not a few times.” 

Chanyeol covered his face with the golden goblet as he took a long draught of fireflower liquor. Whether his cheeks were flaming with embarrassment or due to the effect of the alcohol, he wasn’t sure. _How could I not know when my own_ sister _is getting engaged_? Now that he thought properly about it, he seemed to recall Yoora making several offhanded comments about marriage, and a political union with Lemuria. Or maybe she had told him explicitly, and he was just too thick-skulled to have registered it. The thought embarrassed him even more than losing the archery tournament earlier had. 

Before Sehun or Kyungsoo could shame him further, there came a clear tinkling sound from the royal banquet table; the king was tapping his spoon against his goblet. Instantly, the conversations in the hall died down and the musicians set down their instruments as the king rose from his seat and opened his mouth to speak. 

“Dear ones, thank you all for assembling here today.” At this, there was a smattering of applause, but the king held out his hands for silence, and the clapping died out immediately. “We are gathered here today not only to commemorate the peace between Lemuria and Baltia that has lasted for yet another hundred years — but also to celebrate the closer union that our kingdoms will soon be enjoying.” 

A murmur went through the crowd. “You see,” the king went on, and here he looked down at Junmyeon with shining eyes filled with pride. “My eldest son, Crown Prince Junmyeon, is to be wed to Queen Yoora of Baltia.” There were some gasps from the assembled guests, which quickly morphed into a roar as the Lemurians across the room leapt to their feet, applauding, shouting and pounding their goblets against the table. The king smiled benevolently at his cheering subjects, then clasped his hands together once more for silence. “And with that — I invite you all to enjoy the rest of the celebrations. Thank you all for coming.” 

Kyungsoo and Sehun clearly _hadn’t_ been joking. As the festivities resumed once more in the wake of the king’s announcement, this time even louder and more raucous, celebrating not only the end of the tournament but also the countries’ impending union, Chanyeol wanted to dig a hole in the ground and bury himself in it. Best swordsman in the Four Kingdoms or not, he was a _terrible_ younger brother. He watched the head table silently as the king shook hands with Junmyeon, bowed to Yoora, and then excused himself from the celebration, presumably retiring for the night. Kyungsoo had mentioned something about the king being in ill health, which, Chanyeol presumed, was the reason for hurrying his sister’s engagement along, despite her and Junmyeon still being so young. 

All this reasoning did nothing to ease his conscience, however, and he settled into a guilty, moody silence. His companions clearly felt bad for him, because Kyungsoo suggested that they go outside for a walk, and Sehun offered him a tea-cake off his own plate, which was already piled high with food. Chanyeol accepted both, though distinctly feeling as though he was worthy of neither. 

A set of heavy wooden doors at the side of the banquet hall opened into a verandah, and a path from the veranda wound down towards the estate’s gardens, which had been specially illuminated for the occasion. Wrought-iron braziers filled with flames lined either side of the path, throwing golden light upon the neatly clipped hedges and topiary. The grounds themselves were vast, trailing in meandering cobbles through the flickering greenery, and obviously a popular locale amongst the guests — the number sauntering down the cobbled pathways almost equaled that inside the hall.

“The stars here are different,” Kyungsoo noted as the three of them ambled down the garden path. He raised a hand and started pointing out the constellations as he spoke, using a finger to outline their shapes. “That’s Astraea, the Star-Maiden. You can’t see it from Baltia. And that’s Eirene, one of the Horai — you can just make out the shape of her rhyton if you look closely, there.” 

“Soo, I have no idea what you’re pointing at,” Sehun said, squinting at the night sky. “All I see are dots.” 

Kyungsoo ignored him. “And there, your Highness — Hakuja no Myojin, the White Serpent, to the East. We saw it on our last voyage across the Neptunian Sea.” 

“I remember,” Chanyeol said, and Kyungsoo smiled. 

“They say you can see many more constellations — maybe even the whole galaxy — from the Steppes at night. I’d like to go there someday.” 

“They _also_ say that if you ever get lost in the Steppes, you can never find your way out,” Sehun countered; he lowered his head with a wince, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. “I wouldn’t want to be caught in the Steppes for _any_ reason at all. There’s a _reason_ why no one goes there, y’know, Soo.” 

“I don’t know,” Kyungsoo returned serenely. “I’m sure you could map the Steppes using the stars; it’s just that no one’s tried.” 

“You’re actually crazy,” Sehun shook his head. “And _I’m_ the one who’s drunk.” 

They continued down the path in this fashion, wandering further into the castle grounds as Kyungsoo pointed out the stars, Sehun delivered insipid (and slightly drowsy) commentary, and Chanyeol absorbed what they were saying in silence; just listening to their voices calmed him, and made him feel a little less guilty. Presently they emerged in a circular clearing lined with a low hedge and a stone fountain in the middle. They had left most of the other guests behind in the gardens just bordering the banquet hall, but there was someone else here — a solitary figure was seated on the edge of the fountain’s basin, staring into space, obviously lost in his thoughts. Chanyeol’s heart seemed to skip a beat. 

“Um, why don’t you guys head back first? I’ll be with you in a bit,” Chanyeol heard his voice saying. Kyungsoo looked slightly concerned, until he followed Chanyeol’s gaze to the golden-haired prince sitting silently on the edge of the stone fountain. 

“Alright. Don’t stay out too long.” 

Sehun blinked. “What’s the matter?” 

“Nothing. We’re leaving,” Kyungsoo announced, grabbing Sehun’s arm and marching him away, ignoring the latter’s protests. Chanyeol watched them go, then glanced back at Baekhyun, who still hadn’t noticed his presence. Taking a deep breath, he steeled himself and headed towards the fountain. 

Baekhyun glanced up when Chanyeol’s shadow fell across his lap; their eyes met. He didn’t seem particularly surprised to see Chanyeol, but stood up nevertheless. “Prince Chanyeol.” They exchanged bows. Chanyeol’s heart was pounding in his chest; now that they were actually standing face-to-face, he had completely forgotten what he’d approached Baekhyun to say. But Baekhyun bridged the awkward silence with a smile, gesturing in the direction of the lit banquet hall. “Why aren’t you back there enjoying the festivities?” 

Maybe it was the alcohol, but Chanyeol felt a sudden burst of reckless, almost foolhardy, courage. He found his voice. “I wanted to take a walk.” 

“Oh yes, I love the gardens too, especially at night.” There was a pause; their surroundings were suddenly silent save the chirping of the cicadas and the gurgling of the stone fountain. “How are you finding Lemuria so far?” 

“In the tournament earlier …” Chanyeol began at the same time, and then trailed off awkwardly. Baekhyun gestured for him to speak, so he tried again. “In the tournament earlier, you did — very well.” The words sounded forced, even to him, but he had suddenly lost the faculty of coherent speech. “Especially in the archery event. Even my sister thought you were excellent.” 

Baekhyun brightened. “That’s really high praise, coming from Queen Yoora herself. Actually, there’s something I’ve wanted to ask you since this morning — you use specially fletched arrows, don’t you? I’ve handled Baltian arrows before, but I’ve never seen such craftsmanship. The balance is quite incredible.” 

Chanyeol was surprised that he’d noticed. It was true; all of the arrows he and his sister used were specially crafted for them by local Baltian craftsmen, embossed with the royal family crest. “Yes. Only the royal family — my sister and myself — use those arrows. Yoora’s quite particular about the quality of her arrows.”

“Well, they’re definitely exquisite.” 

“I could have some made for you, if you’d like,” Chanyeol said, with a burst of courage. Baekhyun’s eyes widened slightly, so Chanyeol quickly went on, “I mean, since we’re to be family very soon, and, um, everybody knows.”

Baekhyun’s eyebrows drew together. “Have they announced the engagement already? I must have missed it.” 

“Have you been out here all night?” 

At this, the other prince looked slightly embarrassed. “Big parties … are not really my thing.” 

“We never have parties in Baltia,” Chanyeol blurted, and then cursed himself silently. In his attempts to make the situation less awkward, he was only making it worse — then again, he wasn’t exactly the most sociable of people, equipped to handle situations like these. He felt as though he was half-frozen to the spot, unable to move or form a coherent sentence.

“I’m envious,” Baekhyun said with an amused smile. “Too many can get quite tiring. But it’s the Lemurian way of life, I suppose.” 

“Baltians are less friendly,” Chanyeol said; he could feel the iciness in his limbs start to subside, feel the immobility and stupor start to fade a little. “The closest we’ve ever come to throwing a party at home are probably the Mayoral Assemblies.” At this, Baekhyun let out a small laugh, and Chanyeol managed to muster a smile in response. The two of them stood there silently, smiling at one another, awash in the pale moonlight, as the fountain continued gurgling in the background. 

Then, in the distance, they heard a scream. 

Baekhyun paused. “Did you hear that, or was I imagining it?” 

Chanyeol shook his head. “No, I heard it too. Maybe something’s happened back at the castle.” 

Baekhyun’s eyes filled with worry, and he nodded, slowly, as he started in the direction of the castle. “I should probably go see what’s happened. It was nice speaking with you, Prince Chanyeol —”

Suddenly the gardens were full of people, full of _soldiers_ , dressed in full battle armour and holding flaming torches aloft with their weapons strapped to their sides. Everything seemed to blur. The air was thick with shouting. Baekhyun’s smile melted away, replaced by confusion, and then he was being yanked away from Chanyeol, and disappeared into a throng of Lemurian soldiers. 

The soldiers formed a circle around Chanyeol, trapping him like predators closing in on prey. Chanyeol automatically sank into a defensive posture, though he wasn’t sure what good his fists would do against their blades. 

“Stand down, Prince Chanyeol,” said the soldier at the head of the pack; his voice reverberated against the inside of his helmet, emerging distorted and tinny. There was a cape slung over his shoulders, and the plume of his helmet was a different colour, indicating his rank. _A general?_ As he spoke he took a step forwards; he was even taller than Chanyeol, staring down at the latter through glittering dark eyes. “You’re severely outnumbered. Surrender now, and you will not be harmed.” 

Chanyeol’s eyes narrowed. “What’s going on?” 

“You know your crime,” intoned the general. “Stand down; we do not wish to harm you.” 

“Not until someone tells me what’s going on.” As he spoke, Chanyeol’s eyes darted around the circle of soldiers, searching for openings. They outnumbered him at least twelve to one, and he was sure there were more nearby; they had swords, and he had no weapons save his fists and a small knife strapped to his upper arm which would be useless against their blades. “Is Lemuria declaring war on Baltia?” 

There was some uneasy laughter in response to his words. The general who’d spoken earlier spat in disgust. “How dare you? When it’s _Baltia_ that has declared war?” 

Chanyeol opened his mouth to speak, but was momentarily distracted by a familiar sound in the distance, a rhythmic thumping gradually getting nearer. _Hoofbeats_. 

From somewhere behind him, Sehun shouted, “Yeol, heads up!” 

Chanyeol turned around just in time to catch his sword, which Sehun, on horseback, tossed to him as the black stallion soared over his head and into the mass of soldiers ahead of him. The soldiers leapt out of the path of the horse as Sehun brought the horse around once more, cutting down several soldiers with his sword. Chanyeol swivelled back around — just as a soldier’s blade slammed into his sword, forcing the flat of the blade into his chest. He struggled to force the other man back; through the man’s visor he could see eyes burning with hatred. “Baltia — will — _pay_ ,” the soldier grit out. 

Chanyeol thrust him backwards, slashing outwards with his sword and disarming the man in one fluid movement. As the first soldier’s sword clattered to the stones he saw a second lunging at his right through the corner of his eye, and parried the blow deftly. Sensing a third figure approaching from the left, he tossed his blade to his left hand and jerked his arm backwards, smacking the soldier in his helmet between the eyes, hard enough to render him unconscious. 

Over the shouts and the clangs of metal he heard more hoofbeats, approaching even more urgently. 

“Your Highness!” Kyungsoo shouted, and Chanyeol turned to see his aide galloping towards him with the reins of another horse clutched between his fingers. The soldiers around Chanyeol dived to avoid the horse’s hooves, and Kyungsoo threw him the reins. Chanyeol had barely a split second to gauge his jump before he leap at the galloping horse, thrusting his foot into a stirrup and gripping the saddle as he struggled to pull himself onto the horse’s back. 

When he managed to haul himself into a seating position, Kyungsoo shouted to Sehun, who hastily retreated from battle to join them. The three horses’ hooves pounded against the gravel as they streaked across the now-empty castle grounds, away from their pursuers. 

“What’s happening?” Chanyeol shouted as they galloped, but Sehun only shook his head.“I’ll explain later! First we have to get out of here!” 

“What about my sister?” Chanyeol demanded.

“She’s already on her way out; we’re the last ones!” 

They raced across the gardens, cutting across to the main castle courtyard. Chanyeol risked a glance backwards; more armoured soldiers bearing flaming torches were pouring out of the main doorway towards them. In the distance he could hear more horses, the sound of their hooves clattering against the cobbles. Up ahead, the Lemurian soldiers were starting to raise the drawbridge; several men were shouting as they hauled the massive iron chains draped over their shoulders. But the drawbridge was too large and too heavy to be raised in time; the three horses pounded up the inclined drawbridge and jumped over the exposed stretch of moat, landing easily on the road on the opposite side. There was more shouting from behind as the soldiers started yelling for the drawbridge to be lowered so that they could pursue Chanyeol on horseback. 

The trio galloped through the narrow Lemurian streets as the cries of their pursuers echoed behind them. Lemurians were starting to come out of their houses in their nightclothes, holding lamps and torches, trying to see the source of the commotion. In the midst of this Chanyeol gritted his teeth and leaned down towards his horse, willing it to run faster. _What’s happening?_ The two words reverberated in his mind over and over again, but he knew that he wouldn’t get any answers until they were a safe distance from Lemuria. And yet, at the same time, he couldn’t help replaying his last moments with Baekhyun in his head — the way Baekhyun’s smile had faded into bewilderment, the way he’d been unceremoniously dragged away, the way he had reached for Chanyeol. Or had he? Their chance meeting in the gardens, and the few precious minutes they had spent alone, seemed like a distant dream. 

And if that had been a dream, then this nightmare that he was in had to be one too. But even as Chanyeol closed his eyes and willed himself to wake up, he knew that this wasn’t a dream, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t wake up. 

* * *

They met up with a slightly larger group of Baltian soldiers in a small town south of Lemuria the next day, and by the following day had caught up with Yoora’s party on the road back to Baltia. That night, seated beside the fire in his sister’s tent, in the middle of their makeshift camp, Chanyeol learnt what exactly had transpired.

The scream he and Baekhyun had heard had been one of the Lemurian king’s handmaidens. She had entered his bedchamber to refill a pitcher of water, and had found the king dead in his bed, shot by a poisoned arrow. Said arrow had been fletched with silver and blue feathers, and embossed with the Baltian royal family crest — one of Chanyeol’s, it had been concluded. 

“The next thing I knew, they’d surrounded me in the banquet hall,” Yoora said grimly. “They didn’t even let me explain, just took me out of hall at swordpoint. Outside, I fought to free myself and had Sehun and Kyungsoo go find you. The rest, you know.” 

Chanyeol nodded. He was seated on the floor next to her chair, hugging his knees to his chest and staring into the depths of the fire. “But it can’t have been one of my arrows.” 

Yoora sighed and reached out, brushing his fringe away from his eyes; in response, Chanyeol leaned his head into her lap as she continued stroking his hair. “Who knows, Yeol? Someone wanted to frame us.” Her strokes were gentle, almost idle, but the light in her eyes was tight. “Someone wanted to start a war … just as Lemuria and Baltia were going to form an alliance, too. That alliance would have brought peace to the Four Kingdoms. Or so we’d thought.” 

For a moment, there was utter silence, save the crackling of the fire. 

“So … what now?” Chanyeol kept his eyes on the dancing flames, which cast strange, flickering shadows on the walls of the tent. The rise and fall of the shadows seemed an echo of death, rebirth, and resurrection. Yoora exhaled. 

“We have no other choice.” There was nothing but regret in her voice as she spoke. “Now, we go to war.” 

* * *

**iii.**

_si vis pacem, para bellum_ — if you wish for peace, prepare for war. 

* * *

The fort city of Baltia  was built onto an enormous cliff above the sea — on both sides and behind it lay a vast mountainous range covered in dense forestation, enclosing it within a valley. The palace of Baltia was at the very top of the cliff, overlooking the city below, which at any hour was always bustling with life, horse-drawn carriages, vehicles and people alike moving through the grey cobblestone streets. Beyond the city walls stretched the stormy blue-grey Neptunian Sea. Because of its strategic location, Baltia was considered virtually impenetrable; the treacherous mountain terrain made any siege warfare impossible, meaning that the only means any enemy had of attacking was across the sea. But Baltia was the only kingdom that lay near the sea, and its people were all seasoned seafarers who knew the waterrs of the Neptunian Sea better than anyone, so any battle fought on water was theirs to take. Additionally, Baltia was famous for having the most skilled archers in the Four Kingdoms, with the ability to take out any ship even at a league’s distance — Chanyeol knew all this, but he couldn’t fight the sinking feeling of dismay in his stomach as he gazed out at the glittering ocean from the room of his bedchamber. _In a matter of days, that sea could be a battleground._

“Don’t worry, Yeol,” Sehun said from behind him, as though reading his mind. “The battle won’t even reach the city, and it won’t last more than a week. Baltia isn’t called the Indestructible City for no reason.” 

“The last time anyone ever put _that_ to the test was hundreds of years ago,” Chanyeol countered with a sigh. He turned around to face Sehun, who was lounging easily in an armchair in the corner of the room. “There hasn’t been a war in the Four Kingdoms since.” 

Sehun nodded, waving his hand almost lazily as he spoke. “Since the Three-Kingdom War, which was named as such because Baltia was completely uninvolved,” he proclaimed, as though reciting from a script. “When the Ys and the Vinetans clashed in the Neptunian Sea, both fleets were wiped out by Baltian archers within a week, without a single soldier passing through the city walls. Or have you forgotten all of Kyungsoo’s history lessons?” 

“I haven’t forgotten,” Chanyeol returned, slightly annoyed by his swordmaster’s insouciance. “I’m just …” he trailed off as he turned to face the window once more, his eyes darting to a small group of flickering torches in the sea near the city walls; presumably some soldiers holding a naval exercise. “I just don’t want there to be a war.” 

Sehun’s expression softened, and he stood, joining Chanyeol at the window. “I understand. But even if there is, it’ll be quick, and as painless as possible. The archers have been training every day, under Queen Yoora herself, and as you can see, our sailors have been working hard as well.” 

_Painless. Painless for us_? “You don’t understand, Sehun.” Chanyeol hated how petulant his voice sounded, even to him. “I don’t want anyone to die … anyone at all, not even the Lemurians.” 

It had been a week since they’d returned to Baltia following their emergency flight from Lemuria. During that week Chanyeol had spent his days training with Sehun, his nights observing the war councils between his sister and her generals, and every moment in between thinking of Baekhyun.

The few days he’d had since their last encounter had allowed him to reflect, somewhat morosely, on the strange and inexplicable attraction he’d felt towards the other prince. The bulk of it was curiosity — he wanted to know _who_ Baekhyun was, a desire that had emerged since Baekhyun had bested him in the archery event and had intensified after their short conversation by the fountain. Chanyeol kept on picturing fragments of that meeting: the way Baekhyun’s eyes crinkled when he smiled, his laugh, the slight diffidence in his air, a stark contrast from the self-assured confidence that he had projected to his subjects. There were so many things Chanyeol had wanted to ask him.

The other reason was slightly harder to admit, but Chanyeol knew that he was simply lonely. Baekhyun had been the first other person of his age that he had ever met, apart from the palace retainers, and the only other person who was likely to know what it _felt_ like to be him. Sehun and Kyungsoo were his closest friends and companions, sure, but they would never understand the perpetual scrutiny, the constant pressure. Yoora did, but she was always wary, on guard, careful not to say or do anything not befitting of a queen. Ascending to the throne at a young age meant that she had been deprived of a childhood, and as much as he loved her, Chanyeol couldn’t bring himself to confide in her — he knew that would merely add to her burden, and she was already carrying the weight of the sky upon her shoulders. 

Baekhyun had been the first person whom Chanyeol felt might be able to understand him. But now their kingdoms were on the brink of war, Baekhyun probably thought that Chanyeol had killed his father, and because of that, they were further apart than ever. 

“I do, Yeol.” Sehun exhaled and leaned forwards, resting his elbows on the windowsill. “Believe it or not, I’m a pacifist.” In spite of himself, Chanyeol cracked a smile. “It’s true! I am. I hate the very idea of war.” There was some shouting from directly below them; both looked down into the palace courtyard, where the guards were holding a drill. Chanyeol watched as the cluster of guards formed an orderly line, defending against an imaginary enemy with flaming spears brandished. 

“This is all slightly suspicious, isn’t it?” he said aloud. Something Yoora had said that night, on the road back to Baltia, had bothered him. _Someone wanted to frame us._ Sehun raised a single eyebrow, so Chanyeol went on. “Why would Lemuria want to frame _me_ for the death of their king? We were just about to form an alliance that would ensure a lasting peace in both kingdoms. Who would stand to gain from doing such a thing?” 

Sehun’s brow furrowed. “Unless this was Lemuria’s intention all along. It’s a classic battlefield tactic,” he explained. “Lure the enemy in, have them lower their guard — then turn on them and attack. I did think that their proposal of marriage between Queen Yoora and their crown prince was suspicious from the start. It was too _sudden_ , you know?” 

Somehow the thought that Lemuria had been planning this outcome unsettled Chanyeol deeply, though he had to admit that Sehun’s reasoning made sense, despite his unwillingness to acknowledge so. He nodded, slowly, reluctantly.

“Your Highness, you have a guest.” 

Chanyeol and Sehun both glanced up to see Kyungsoo standing in the doorway; the latter’s brow was knitted, and he seemed slightly unsettled as he crossed the room to hand the prince a small roll of parchment, bound by a single silver string.

“Here? _Now_?” Having a visitor at this point in time, when Baltia was preparing for war, seemed eminently inappropriate. _Who would visit at this time_? Sehun looked on with great interest as Chanyeol undid the string and unrolled the parchment. The moment Chanyeol saw the message, written in elegant, spiked letters, his body launched into a series of contradictory responses; his blood ran cold, but his heart started pounding, and his entire face felt like it was overheating.

_Prince Chanyeol,_

_I know you didn’t kill my father._ _I am in Baltia today, but tomorrow I return to Lemuria. If you are willing to hear what I have to say, please send Minseok back with a response._

_I will be waiting at the Agartha Inn, at three hours to midnight._

_Baekhyun_

Chanyeol was sure there was steam rising from his ears. _I know you didn’t kill my father._ His heart thudded against his chest erratically, almost joyfully. Baekhyun knew he was innocent. _Three hours to midnight_ — Chanyeol’s eyes flashed to the silver clock on the wall; its face read half-past eight. Chanyeol turned back toKyungsoo, who was still standing in front of him. 

“I have to go.” 

Sehun took a step forwards. “Not so fast, Chanyeol. Remember what we were discussing? This could be a trap.” 

“A trap?” Chanyeol was shaking his head before Sehun even finished his sentence. “No, Sehun. We can trust Baekhyun — I’m sure of it. That night —” his breath hitched in his throat as he recalled his last image of the other boy; the look in the latter’s wide eyes had been confused, baffled, almost distressed as the Lemurian soldiers had pulled him away from Chanyeol. “Before you came to find me, he was dragged away by his guards. He was just as surprised and confused as I was. Even if the Lemurians have been plotting something, Baekhyun’s not part of it.” 

Sehun looked pleadingly at Kyungsoo, who simply folded his hands and nodded. “I’ve already told Minseok that you would go.”

“ _What_?” both Chanyeol and Sehun said aloud, having anticipated greater resistance from the prince’s tutor.

Kyungsoo’s eyes were grave. “I’m going to have to agree with his Highness, Sehun. I don’t think that Prince Baekhyun would risk his life by coming to Baltia if he’d actually been privy to what the Lemurians were planning. If war is their objective, they’ve already achieved their goal. He stands to gain nothing by coming to see Prince Chanyeol, and what’s more, has placed his life in grave danger by simply being here.” 

Chanyeol looked at Sehun almost triumphantly, who sank back into the armchair at the end of the room with a dramatic sigh of defeat. “Seems like I’ve been outvoted. Well, at least let us come with you.” 

“Of course,” Chanyeol answered, a smile rising to his lips. _I’m going to see Baekhyun again._ He looked at Kyungsoo. “Will you come?” 

“Yes, of course,” Kyungsoo said slowly, but the crease in his brow deepened. “I’m just worried about what Prince Baekhyun has to say — if he’s come all the way here, and is willing to risk his life just to deliver this message, it has to be important.” 

“Well,” Sehun said, jumping to his feet and reaching for the scabbard strung from the wall beside him, which he offered to Chanyeol with a smile. “Only one way to find out, isn’t there?” 

* * *

In all of the eighteen years that Chanyeol had lived in Baltia, he had never once visited the Agartha Inn, and with good reason. The establishment, euphemistically termed an ‘inn’, was more of a brothel, located in the heart of Baltia’s red-light district, where courtesans with heavily made-up faces and plunging necklines roamed the torch-lit streets, draped over the necks of drunk and pot-bellied merchants. Beyond its lewd nightlife, however, the red-light district was also famous for being the hub of all fraudulent and illicit business within Baltia, and the Agartha Inn was at the centre of this, purportedly where all the largest crime syndicates all did their dealings.

The building itself was a massive stone structure, with a facade supported by massive marble columns and flanked by enormous stone statues of naked goddesses and cherubs; it towered above all the other buildings in the vicinity and stood, unmistakeable and imposing, at the very end of the road. Sehun and Kyungsoo steered Chanyeol through the crowd towards the stone complex while the prince kept his head down and pulled his hood low over his ears. 

And then they had passed through the massive wooden doors and into the brightly-lit interior of the inn. Chanyeol tilted his head up to see soaring stone arches that met in the middle of a ribbed vault; the centre tower of the inn was empty, rimmed along the sides by marble staircases and galleries that ran in endless loops around the circumference of the chamber. More scantily clad courtesans ran along these narrow corridors, some giggling as they playfully escaped their inebriated clients, others latched onto the arms of ruddy-faced men, helping them down the carpeted staircases. His eyes shifted to the chandelier suspended from the arched dome, a massive structure dripping with threaded crystals that cast coruscating shafts of light across the room.

“Come on,” Sehun muttered, and he led the way towards the marble reception desk in the middle of the foyer, manned by a young, dark-haired girl in a white dress. She glanced up as the three of them approached; her eyes roamed over Kyungsoo, paused on the hooded Chanyeol too long for comfort, and then came to rest on Sehun, who leaned on the counter and offered up his most dazzling smile. 

“Hey there, sweetheart. Is Joy in today?” 

The dark-haired girl tilted her head. “Do you have an appointment? Joy doesn’t just see anyone. Although,” she added, trailing the tip of her stylus down a parchment register, “I do have six other girls free at the moment.” 

Sehun’s smile brightened, almost dangerously. “Joy will see me. Just tell her that Oh Sehun is here.” 

The girl looked up at him sharply, as though seeing him clearly for the first time. Slowly, she rose from her chair, her eyes darting to Kyungsoo and Chanyeol once more before returning to Sehun. “Just a moment.” She turned and disappeared through the beaded curtain hanging behind the desk. 

Kyungsoo raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t know you were that well-known around here, Sehun. Is this where you spend all your free time?” 

“Shut up, Kyungsoo.” 

A heartbeat later, the beaded curtain swung open, and a red-haired young woman stepped through. Unlike the scantily-clad courtseans, she was wearing an embroidered dress of black lace with a high collar, with sleeves that flared out at her wrists and a sweeping train of layered black tulle and guipure that ended at her ankles, revealing her bare feet. The dress somehow managed to suggest an air of modesty and indecency at the same time, complemented by the young woman’s coy smile. 

“Oh Sehun,” she said, and her vermillion-painted lips pulled back to reveal pearly white teeth. “I hope you’re here today to _visit_ me.” 

Sehun laughed, but the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I wish. No, I’m here today on business, Soo-young.” 

“As always,” Soo-young sighed. “I swear, you just treat me like one of your other informants. You don’t even bother pretending otherwise, do you, Sehun?” But she leaned across the marble countertop nevertheless, beckoning Sehun forwards. “I know who you’re looking for. He’s in a room in the back. If you’ll follow me …” her eyes slid to Kyungsoo and Chanyeol, who was still wearing his hood. “… and bring your _friends_.” With that, she turned and pushed past the beaded curtain once more, her black skirts swishing. Sehun gestured for Kyungsoo and Chanyeol to follow. 

“Sehun, who _is_ she?” Chanyeol whispered as Joy led them down a narrow corridor lit by brass lamps overhead; there were several doorways along the passageway, but the doors were all closed, and each labelled with a single brass number. 

Sehun pressed his lips together. “Her name is Soo-young, and she’s the owner of the Agartha Inn,” he answered. His eyes darted from door to door as he spoke, and Chanyeol noticed that he kept a hand on the hilt of his sword, which spoke volumes about the danger they were in. “She’s an old friend of mine. Keeps me posted on what happens down in the city.” 

“Old friend?” Soo-young echoed from the front; Chanyeol realised that she had heard every word they’d said, even though she didn’t turn around. “That hardly describes the extent of our relationship, Sehun. Tell me, is what they’re saying true?” She came to a sudden stop and whirled around to face Chanyeol, who started backwards. Her dark eyes seemed to bore into his skull. “They say the reason for this war is because _you_ killed the old king of Lemuria, your Highness. Is that true?” 

“Soo-young,” Sehun said warningly from behind. 

Her eyes flickered to him annoyedly. “Oh Sehun, I have the Second Prince of Lemuria in one of my rooms at this moment, and if anyone found out, this place could become a battleground,” Soo-young said flatly, and all her teasing coquetry had vanished. “All my girls could die. And seeing as I’ve so kindly refrained from turning him out, I think I deserve to know.” Her gaze returned to Chanyeol and remained on him with piercing solemnity. “So, is it true?” 

“No,” Chanyeol answered, meeting her gaze squarely, and the light in her eyes softened.

“Very well. Then please, find a way to stop this war.” 

* * *

Baekhyun and Minseok were waiting in Room 48. The two of them were seated around a circular table in the middle of the room, with untouched goblets of pale yellow liquor before them, while a third figure paced the room behind them agitatedly. All three glanced up when Soo-young opened the door.

Immediately, Baekhyun stood up, and a relieved smile spread over his face. “You came,” he said to Chanyeol, who felt his face heat up instantly. 

“Of course I came.” 

“You’ll have to keep this quick, your Highnesses,” Soo-young called from the doorway. “You won’t be safe here forever, and I don’t want any trouble.” 

Baekhyun nodded seriously. “Of course, ma’am, we don’t want to cause you any trouble either. We’re already very grateful for your help.” Soo-young smiled at the golden-haired prince, then shot Sehun a pointed look. “One hour, Oh Sehun. Not more.” Then she closed the door behind her and was gone, leaving the six men alone in the room. 

Chanyeol was the first to speak. “Why did you come here?” he blurted. “It isn’t safe.” 

Baekhyun exchanged glances with Minseok, and then the third member of their party, whom Chanyeol recognised as one of his opponents from the tournament in Lemuria. “I know, but I had to speak with you. I need your help if we’re going to stop this war from happening.” 

“Why?” the word burst from Chanyeol’s lips before he could stop it. “Everyone’s saying that I killed your father. Why would you trust me?” 

There was a pause. “After I met you,” Baekhyun said slowly, lifting his eyes to meet Chanyeol’s, “that day in the gardens, I just knew you couldn’t have done it.” Another pause. “No matter what my brother told me, or what everyone said, I just refused to believe it.” His brown eyes were shining. “So to convince me, Junmyeon decided to show me the arrow which had been used to — kill my father.”

“My arrow,” Chanyeol murmured. 

Baekhyun shook his head. “Except it wasn’t. The balance was off,” he said hesitantly, and then gave a nervous laugh. “This must sound crazy to you, doesn’t it. Junmyeon said I was. I mean, the balance of an arrow? That’s hardly reason to …” Then the light in his eyes hardened once more. “But I’m sure that I didn’t make a mistake. I _know_ that that arrow didn’t belong to you.” 

“And you were right, your Highness,” Sehun cut in. “Prince Chanyeol did not kill your father. You know that, and I know that, but we have no way of proving it.”

“Not if we can trace who made that arrow,” Baekhyun’s second companion, Chanyeol’s former opponent, spoke up. He moved forwards until he was standing next to Baekhyun, then gave a cheerful wave and a cat-like smile. “I’m Jongdae by the way, Prince Baekhyun’s personal knight. But, yeah, that’s probably not important right now. Anyway, like I was saying, we may have a means of finding out who made that arrow.” 

“How?” inquired Kyungsoo. 

“There was a craftsman’s mark on that arrow,” Baekhyun answered for Jongdae. He looked at Kyungsoo, Sehun and Chanyeol each in turn, as though gauging the effect of his words. “That means that whoever made it probably didn’t know what it was being used for, else they would never have left their mark. I didn’t manage to get a close look at it, and I doubt anyone else did, out of respect. But if we could identify who made that arrow, then we could find out who had it made, and from there, trace the killer. And if we could trace the killer, and expose him, maybe — just maybe, we could prevent this war.” 

Sehun held up a finger. “This sounds like a brilliant plan, your Highness. Except there’s one problem — yousaid that you didn’t manage to see the craftsman’s mark in great detail. So, how do you intend on tracing the maker?” 

More glances were exchanged, this time slightly more hesitant. Minseok folded his arms over his chest. “This is where it get a little bit complicated,” he admitted. 

“My father … is being cremated the day after tomorrow,” Baekhyun said. “The arrow will be placed alongside him on his funeral pyre. At this moment, it lies with his body in the Great Hall back home, where the citizens have been paying their last respects.” 

Sehun tilted his head to one side quizzically. “I fail to see how this is of any relevance. Unless …” what Baekhyun was insinuating dawned on him, and his eyes widened. “Oh. _Oh._ ” 

From Chanyeol’s left, Kyungsoo spoke up. “You know, in Baltia we have a saying: _tragedy and misfortune will befall any man who dares disturb the dead._ ”

A pleading look entered Baekhyun’s eyes. “Please, I wouldn’t be asking you to do this if I wasn’t desperate,” he said. “I don’t want this war any more than you do, and this is the only way to stop it that I can think of.” At this point, he looked Chanyeol straight in the eye. “ _Please_.” 

The seconds ticked by in terse silence. Chanyeol could feel Kyungsoo’s and Sehun’s eyes on him as well, waiting for his verdict. Baekhyun’s plan sounded like an enormous gamble — at worst, it could fail to prevent the war, and if he got caught in Lemuria, he would definitely be sentenced to a painful and humiliating death, as revenge for their king. But he, too, wanted to stop the war, and at this point, he had no other options. 

He shifted uncomfortably. “When do we have to leave?” 

At his words, Baekhyun relaxed visibly; the latter let out a sigh of relief and the tension ebbed away from his shoulders. “Tomorrow morning, latest. But if possible, we were hoping to leave tonight?” He glanced sideways at Minseok, who nodded in confirmation. 

“It takes at least a day to get to Lemuria on horseback, and if we’re lucky, slightly less.” 

Chanyeol turned to look at Kyungsoo. “Kyungsoo, can we get the necessary supplies by tonight?” 

Kyungsoo inclined his head. “Of course, your Highness. If you wish, we can be on our way in a matter of hours. Maybe two.” 

“Alright,” Chanyeol said, glancing back at Sehun. Sehun was clearly uncomfortable with the plan; Chanyeol could see it in his pursed lips and the grim light in his eyes. Never had the young prince seen his swordmaster this tense or on edge before, not even when Lemuria had first declared war. When Sehun saw Chanyeol looking at him, he tried to hide his vexation and offered the prince a playful grimace.

“Guess we’re going to rob a funeral, eh?” 

* * *

**iv.**

_murum aries attigit_ — the ram has touched the wall; the assault has begun.

* * *

“There are six entrances into the Great Hall,” Baekhyun had said during the mission brief they’d had in a small inn on the outskirts of Lemuria. Minseok had spread several rolls of parchment across the wooden table, each inked with floor plans and diagrams of Lemuria Castle, which Baekhyun now indicated as he spoke. “One from the front, two from either side, and one from the back. Five of them will be heavily guarded. The only one that will be left unguarded is this one —” he pointed at the back entrance, “—because it comes directly from the inner courtyard, which is accessible only from the king’s quarters.”

“Fantastic,” Sehun chimed in drily, leaning in towards the table to get a better look at the map; he set his tankard of beer on the table, which, Chanyeol saw, was uncharacteristically full. “So how do we get into the king’s quarters?” 

“There are underground tunnels meant as escape routes for the royal family, should the castle ever come under siege,” Jongdae responded; a smirk rose to his lips. “I presume you have some in Baltia as well, or were the people who built your _Indestructible City_ too arrogant for their own good?” 

Sehun’s eyes flashed, and a smirk of his own spread across his face. “No, not arrogant. We don’t overestimate our defences, we just know the extent of our opponents’ abilities.” 

“Quit it,” Minseok cut in, just as Jongdae was opening his mouth to retort. Kyungsoo nodded at him in thanks. 

“This isn’t the time to be squabbling like children. Prince Baekhyun, please continue.” 

Baekhyun nodded, shifting a small cluster of pebbles that Minseok had placed at the side of the table closer to the centre of the diagram. “The tunnel leads directly from the forest into the king’s quarters. Few people know about it, not even the guards. Now that my father is gone, and my s—” here he hesitated, then went on, “—now only my brother would know of its existence. And he won’t be expecting anyone to use it, anyway. The three of us used it to escape the castle to travel to Baltia — it’s in relatively good condition, and navigating it shouldn’t be a problem. So that’s how we’ll be getting into the king’s quarters.” 

Baekhyun paused and glanced up at Chanyeol, who was seated across from him, and had been silently listening. “Getting in is the easy part,” the prince of Lemuria said; his eyes were grim. “It’s getting through the palace and then getting out afterwards that will be hard.”

“From here,” he continued, returning his gaze to the six pebbles he had moved onto the parchment. “We’ll split up into three groups. Group one, Minseok and Sehun, will cut across the inner courtyard and into the east wing, where you’ll cause a diversion. Group two, Kyungsoo and Jongdae, will go through the servants’ quarters and to the stables, where you’ll secure our horses. Prince Chanyeol and myself will be group three — and we’ll be the ones infiltrating the hall itself. Once Minseok and Sehun cause the distraction, I’ll order the guards to leave, and then we can replace the arrow and be on our way.” 

“By the way, the east wing is the women’s quarters, so don’t get _distracted_ ,” Jongdae said with a playful grin in Sehun’s direction; Sehun raised his eyebrows coldly in response. 

“Don’t worry about me; I’ve no interest in Lemurian women.” 

“From _here_ ,” Baekhyun interrupted with a pointed look at both of them, “we’ll all find our way individually to the stables, and depart through the south gate.” Here he haphazardly regrouped the pebbles at the portion labelled ‘stables’, and pointed at the mentioned gate. “And then we’ll flee through the forest and into the Steppes.” 

“Wait a moment.” Sehun raised his palm. “Couple of questions. Two, actually. One: there’s no plan on how we’re going to get from _wherever_ we are in the palace to the stables? So we’ll just _somehow,_ one way or the other, stumble through the chaos and get to the meeting point?” 

Baekhyun exchanged glances with Jongdae and Minseok; Minseok nodded, and Jongdae shrugged. “Well,” the Lemurian prince said haltingly, “like you said, it’s going to be quite chaotic. It’d be hard to come up with a fixed plan for that part — we’ll all have to improvise on the fly. And you’ll have Minseok with you, and he knows the palace inside out, so —”

“Okay, let’s assume that works out, somehow,” Sehun cut in, though his brow remained furrowed. “My second question is — what the hell? The _Steppes_? We’d get lost in there, stranded for _days_ even. How are we supposed to —”

“I can navigate the Steppes,” Minseok spoke up from the corner of the room; all five pairs of eyes flashed to his face. His solemn expression didn’t change as he started walking towards the table, and lifted his eyes to meet Sehun’s. “I grew up there. It won’t be an issue.” 

There was a pause, and pinned under five expectant gazes, with Minseok facing him squarely, Sehun let out an acquiescent sigh. “This is getting crazier and crazier by the minute. But if you’re confident, then sure.” 

“Saying we’re confident might be a bit of a stretch, but we’re willing to give it a shot,” Baekhyun answered. He turned to Chanyeol, mustering a brave smile. “Prince Chanyeol, what do you think?” 

Chanyeol glanced over his shoulder at Kyungsoo, who gave him a curt nod; he then turned to look up at Sehun, who was standing at his right, his shoulders tense. Chanyeol knew that Sehun wasn’t comfortable with the whole plan — too much of it rested on the Lemurians, and if any one of the three betrayed them, they would be dead within minutes. It was clear that Sehun still had his doubts, and Sehun’s gut was usually right. Uncertainty crept over Chanyeol like a shadow. 

“One condition,” Chanyeol said, and Baekhyun’s smile faltered slightly. 

“What would that be?” 

“Sehun comes with the two of us,” Chanyeol responded, meeting Baekhyun’s gaze unwaveringly. Next to him, Sehun exhaled sharply. 

Baekhyun’s brow furrowed. “But in that case —”

“Minseok can cause the distraction by himself,” Chanyeol interrupted, without giving the other prince a chance to finish. The confusion in Baekhyun’s eyes dissipated, replaced by hurt, as though he understood Chanyeol’s real reason for objecting.At that, Chanyeol almost lost his resolve, but he steeled himself and went on. “We’ll need extra help in fending off the guards in the hall if anything goes wrong, and the servants’ quarters won’t have anywhere near the same level of security. Plus, Minseok knows his way around the castle and it’ll be easier for him to slip in and slip out without bringing Sehun with him.” 

“What, and leave the two of you with Prince Baekhyun?” Jongdae said loudly, taking a step forward towards the table. His eyes narrowed. “If Sehun is going with you, then I’m coming with Prince Baekhyun.” 

“No, Jongdae,” Baekhyun cut in sharply, and Jongdae instinctively flinched backwards. The golden-haired prince moved forwards until he stood between his knight and Sehun and Chanyeol, holding out his hands placatingly. “You have to go with Kyungsoo to the stables, because he doesn’t know the way.” Jongdae opened his mouth to object, but Baekhyun held up a hand for silence, and the former’s protest died out. Baekhyun then turned to face the two Baltians before him, and nodded. “Very well. Sehun, you’ll come with me and Prince Chanyeol to the Great Hall. Minseok will cause the diversion on his own.” 

“This is ridiculous, Prince Baekhyun,” Jongdae argued from behind. “It’s too dangerous for you to go with them alone!” 

“You wanted _our_ help,” Sehun shot back. “If you don’t trust us, we can very well make our way back to Baltia _right now_.”

“ _Enough!_ ” Baekhyun burst out, and the room fell into an agitated silence; Sehun and Jongdae were glowering at one another, while Baekhyun stood between the two men, one hand outstretched in either direction, as though to hold them apart physically. “Please, I need all of you to cooperate, or else Lemuria is finished,” he pleaded, and his voice broke on the last word. There was a pause, and then Jongdae tore his gaze from Sehun’s begrudgingly, though his mouth was twisted into a bitter grimace. 

Chanyeol reached out and placed a hand on Sehun’s shoulder, as if to say, _Sehun, please._ The older man turned at his touch, met his gaze, and then nodded once. Baekhyun gave Chanyeol a grateful smile, but for some reason, the latter couldn’t bring himself to return it. 

“So it’s settled, then,” said the Second Prince of Lemuria aloud, locking eyes with each individual in the room in turn. “The fate of our two kingdoms rests on us all.” 

_The fate of our two kingdoms_ , Chanyeol repeated to himself as the six of them trudged silently down what seemed like an endlessly long, endlessly grimy, endlessly wet corridor deep in the earth beneath Lemuria Castle. _That makes it sound a lot more noble than it actually is_. He craned his neck to see past Kyungsoo at Baekhyun, who led the way down the earthen walkway, a lamp held aloft. The other prince’s shoulders were tense, his jaw set, his eyes fixed determinedly ahead. _He probably doesn’t regret anything_ , Chanyeol thought, and allowed himself a small smile. _Then why do I feel so anxious? This isn’t the stupidest or most dangerous thing I’ve ever done._

In all his eighteen years, Chanyeol had done many stupid and dangerous things. One of his most vivid childhood memories was from his seventh year, when, after a particularly difficult horseriding lesson, he’d snuck from his room at night, saddled his horse, and headed out into the forests behind the palace to practice what he’d learnt. At night, the forest was completely different from how he remembered it; within a few hours it had transformed from a comfortable and familiar environment to a tenebrous and eerie labyrinth of branches and vines. An owl had suddenly swooped towards him, and Chanyeol had let out a yell of surprise, in turn startling his horse, which panicked and reared abruptly, causing him to fall off into a ditch while it fled back towards the palace stables. 

In the muddy ditch, Chanyeol had tried to move, only to realise that he’d broken his ankle. He had sat there for hours, shivering and crying silently, until he suddenly heard shouts, the ditch had flooded with firelight, and then Sehun was lifting him out of the mud. He’d clung to the older boy and buried his face in his shoulder as the search party rode back towards the palace, where Kyungsoo was waiting. As Sehun lifted Chanyeol off the horse and into Kyungsoo’s arms, the young prince had never felt safer or more sorry for the trouble he’d caused. Since that day he’d sworn never to do anything as stupid or as dangerous again. 

Of course, that resolution hadn’t been watertight, and Chanyeol had proceeded to do many more stupid and reckless things, including taking on a wild bear all by himself on a hunting trip (Sehun had nearly skinned him for that), refusing to come up for air while diving until he managed to prise a giant pearl from its clam (this took over two minutes; he’d nearly blacked out and Kyungsoo had whopped him over the head), and firing three flaming arrows at three different targets, simultaneously _and_ on horseback (just to prove he could, but Yoora had confiscated his bow for a week). But none of that even came _close_ to his latest exploit — breaking into Lemuria Castle, at a time when war was imminent _and_ every Lemurian wanted his head on a spike, _and_ with only six people, by _far_ took the cake.

_No, this is_ definitely _the stupidest and most dangerous thing I’ve ever done_ , Chanyeol corrected himself, _and these are the largest stakes ever._ Everything that had come before had been merely a warm-up, and _this_ was the pièce de résistance. 

Up ahead, Baekhyun came to a halt; they’d reached the end of the corridor. Set into the wall before him was a set of iron ladder rungs, leading up a vertical column to a wooden trap door up ahead. Silently, Baekhyun passed the lamp to Kyungsoo behind him, seized the first rung, and began to climb. The rest of the group waited with bated breath as Baekhyun fumbled with the latch on the trap door and pushed it open; it swung open easily, without so much as a squeak. Instantly Chanyeol stiffened, but as though sensing his discomfort, Jongdae said from behind him, “we oiled the hinges on our way out, in preparation for this.” 

Chanyeol coloured; were his emotions that easily read? But before he had time to dwell on this, Kyungsoo passed him the lamp and started up the ladder; Baekhyun had given the signal to keep going. As he held the lamp above his head so that Kyungsoo could see, Chanyeol’s heart began pounding furiously, thudding against the walls of his chest. _What if this is a trap?_ But before he dared say anything, Kyungsoo reached the mouth of the now-open trapdoor, and Baekhyun pulled him through. There was a moment of utter silence, and Chanyeol’s heart almost stopped. 

Then Kyungsoo’s head was at the opening, and Chanyeol’s tutor gestured for him to follow. Smothering an exhalation of relief, Chanyeol handed the lamp to Jongdae behind him and began to climb. 

The tunnel deposited them in one of the three antechambers linked directly to the former King’s bedchamber, behind a large ornate cupboard. The stone chamber was dimly lit by flickering candlelight in the adjacent bedchamber. Baekhyun approached the edge of the open doorway, peered into the bedchamber, and then gesticulated that it was all clear; there were no soldiers stationed there, as had been anticipated. Majority of the troops, Baekhyun had postulated, would be preparing for the funeral procession, and only a small group would have been left behind as a ceremonial guard for the body in the Great Hall. 

In the inner courtyard the group split, with Minseok heading right to the east wing and Kyungsoo and Jongdae turning left towards the stables. Before the latter group departed Jongdae caught Sehun’s sleeve, gripping his wrist tightly as though in warning. Chanyeol stepped forward, anticipating a conflict, but all Jongdae said was, “protect Prince Baekhyun,” to which Sehun returned a stiff, “I will.” 

And then they were gone, and the three of them—Chanyeol, Sehun and Baekhyun—were left alone in the middle of the cobbled courtyard, facing the donjon of Lemuria Castle, which loomed overhead. Directly ahead, Chanyeol could see into the Great Hall through an archway—even at this distance he could see the heavy marble catafalque bearing the late king’s body, surrounded by candelabras supporting tall, white candles; the candelabras glinted brass in the flickering light. A row of armoured guards formed protective rows before the corpse, spears held at their sides. Though he knew he was clothed in darkness, a shiver trickled down Chanyeol’s spine at the thought of the imminent danger he was in. 

Sehun knew it too, because he placed a hand on his charge’s shoulder and squeezed it. “We’ll be in and out like lightning,” his swordmaster whispered. 

Baekhyun had been staring at his father’s body in silence, and now he turned back to glance at the two Baltians standing behind him. In the weak moonlight his golden hair seemed silver, and his eyes seemed to glow, Chanyeol thought, and then abruptly wondered why he had noticed that. The Second Prince of Lemuria glanced up at the sky, as though looking for a signal, then headed forwards through the unguarded doorway and into the hall. 

Almost in response, there was a muffled explosion from the building to their right. _Minseok_ , thought Chanyeol, and gritted his teeth. _No turning back now._

At the second explosion, the entire Great Hall seemed to shake; scattered showers of dust and granite pebbles fell from the ceiling beams and to the ground. The row of soldiers shifted uneasily, turning to glance at one another, and at their counterparts standing guard over the entrances.

Suddenly a voice cried out, “Prince Baekhyun!”

All the soldiers whipped around to see their golden-haired Second Prince standing silently by his father’s body, having seemingly materialised out of nowhere; though his back was to them, all the soldiers in the hall instantly genuflected, armour clanking noisily as they did so. Baekhyun raised a hand for them to be at ease, though he didn’t turn. 

“What was that sound?” 

Crouched behind the catafalque, Chanyeol had to remind himself to breathe quietly. Sehun was pressed up against the stone at his side, one hand on his sword hilt. Standing above them, on the other side of the pedestal, Baekhyun spoke again. “Sounded like trouble in the east wing.” 

A hesitant, “yes, sir,” from one of the soldiers. 

“You had better go take a look,” Baekhyun said, and Chanyeol thought he heard his voice tremble. “I’ll stay here with my father. All of you, go now.” 

There was some shuffling, low murmuring. “But, your Highness,” the same soldier began, “we have been ordered by Prince Junmeyon to remain with his Majesty at all times.” 

Baekhyun took a deep breath, mustered himself, and then whirled around to face the soldiers. “Are you doubting my ability to protect my father?” he demanded, his imperious tone a stark contrast from his usual diffidence and humility. “I am ordering you _now_ to go and deal with whatever is happening in the east wing. Everyone else is in the city preparing for the procession, and this could very well be an attack by the Baltians. And who will answer to my brother if it is?” 

The room fell silent momentarily, and then the first soldier snapped to attention in a salute. “Yes, sir!” He barked some orders to the rest of his section, who quickly followed suit in saluting Baekhyun and departing the room in a flurry of footsteps and metal. 

Baekhyun waited until the last of the soldiers had disappeared, and their footsteps faded into silence, before letting out a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding. “Chanyeol — the arrow, now.” Even though Baekhyun couldn’t see him, Chanyeol nodded, reaching over his shoulder into his quiver and removing one of his own arrows, raising himself slightly off the ground to extend it to the other prince over the catafalque. 

For the first time, Chanyeol got a proper look at the late King — Baekhyun’s father — who was lying on the stone pedestal he’d been hunched behind. The king’s eyes were closed, and his hands were folded over his chest. Though his face was relaxed and his expression peaceful, the skin of his cheeks was mottled, and the high embroidered collar of his funerary robe failed to conceal the tips of green varicose veins which wove around his neck like a noose. Baekhyun’s face was tight, and his eyes shone with tears — this was the first time, Chanyeol guessed, that he had seen his father’s body.

The arrow that they’d come for was clutched between the king’s gloved fingers; just as Baekhyun had said, it was fletched with blue and silver arrows, the royal colours of Baltia. But, as the Lemurian prince had posited, there _was_ a slight difference between the arrow resting on the king’s chest and that which Baekhyun currently held — Chanyeol’s eyes narrowed as he tried to discern what it was. Was it the width of the shaft? The depth of the nock? In spite of the urgency and imminent danger he couldn’t help but feel impressed that Baekhyun had been able to instantly tell the difference — despite only handling the arrow once. Then the gravity of their situation hit him once more, and he blurted, “hurry.” 

Baekhyun’s eyes were glistening, but he nodded. Taking a deep breath he reached over the row of candles and gently prised his father’s fingers off the counterfeit arrow, replacing it with the arrow that Chanyeol had given him. Even though he’d prompted the other prince to take action, the moment Baekhyun’s fingers touched the late king’s body, Kyungsoo’s voice echoed in Chanyeol’s head. _Tragedy and misfortune will follow any man who dares disturb the dead._ The words lingered in Chanyeol’s ears, but he forced himself to ignore them, almost angrily. _I don’t have time for superstition._

Then the arrow was free, and Chanyeol quickly slotted it into his quiver, amongst his other arrows. Still kneeling behind him, Sehun said, urgently, “we should get out of here.” Chanyeol nodded, sinking back into a crouch and starting towards the open doorway, but Baekhyun hesitated. 

“Just a moment …” 

“Baekhyun?” 

_Fuck._ The word almost escaped Chanyeol, but Sehun’s hand clamped over his mouth, anticipating the former’s response, and with his other hand, his swordmaster yanked him back against the catafalque. The back of Chanyeol’s head slammed against the stone wall, causing his eyes to water. Through the pain he tilted his head to blink at Sehun, who slowly removed his hand from Chanyeol’s mouth and moved it to his sword. 

Above them, Baekhyun said, “Junmyeon?” 

_This is bad_ , was the only coherent thought that formed in Chanyeol’s mind. Footsteps echoed through the hall as the Crown Prince moved, presumably, towards his younger brother, who remained frozen at the foot of the catafalque. At Chanyeol’s side Sehun was slowly shifting his weight, as though preparing to stand up; every muscle in his body was tense, a coiled spring ready to snap into action. Chanyeol’s heart was hammering vigorously in his chest; he didn’t think he could move even if he had to. 

“Why are you here?” Baekhyun asked; Chanyeol could hear the effort it cost him to keep his voice measured and even. “I’d have thought you’d be in the city overseeing the preparations for tomorrow’s procession.” 

“I was,” his brother answered, “and then I was alerted that there was a commotion at the castle, so I came back to take a look.” 

“Yes,” Baekhyun responded. “There’s something happening in the east wing; I sent the guards to take a look while I remained here with Father.” Junmyeon didn’t respond, so Baekhyun went on. “Why don’t you go check that everything’s been resolved? It’s probably some Baltian saboteur —”

“Baekhyun, where have you been?” 

A pause. “Excuse me?” Baekhyun’s voice wobbled. 

“You were missing for two days.” Junmyeon’s tone was almost concerned, edged with accusatory undertones. “I looked for you all over the castle, in the city, in the woods. No one could find you, or Minseok or Jongdae. Where did you go?” 

More silence as Baekhyun tried to come up with a satisfactory response. “I — I needed a break from everything.” 

“Lemuria is preparing for war, and you needed a break.” Though Junmyeon’s voice was measured, he was definitely angry, and — Chanyeol wasn’t sure if he was imagining it, in his paranoia — maybe even a little suspicious. “That’s not like you, Baek. You’ve never been the type to shirk responsibility.” Another pause. “And all that childish business about how it couldn’t have been the Baltians,” the Crown Prince went on in disgust. “In the past you never would’ve been this stubborn. I always told Father that he was too —”

“Father’s _dead_ , Junmyeon,” Baekhyun cut him off, and his voice was shaking — in anger? Anguish? Chanyeol couldn’t tell. “Father’s dead, and I needed a break. I’m sorry I can’t be _you_ , okay? I’m sorry that I can’t emotionally detach from this entire situation and be the perfect prince that everyone expects me to be. _You_ can, and that’s well and good for you. But I can’t. And I’d have thought that you — you of all people would understand that much.” 

His outburst left his older brother in stunned silence, and for a long, agonising minute, Chanyeol could hear nothing but the thudding of his heart in his chest and Baekhyun’s heavy breathing. Finally, at length, Junmyeon spoke. 

“Will you be at the procession tomorrow, at least?” 

Another painful pause. “I can’t,” Baekhyun said, and his voice was tight. 

Junmyeon exhaled. “Very well, then. Take all the time you need for now. But at the very least — be there when your kingdom needs you, Baekhyun. That’s the very least responsibility a prince has to fulfil.” 

“Thanks, _hyung_ ,” Baekhyun said softly. 

Another sigh from his elder brother. “It’s the least I can do.” Then, somewhat hesitantly: “I’ll — I’ll go check on the situation in the east wing now. And you — until I next see you, take care of yourself, alright?” And with that, he was gone, his footsteps echoing down the length of the hall, further and further away until they faded completely into the distance. 

Chanyeol let out a long, haggard breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding. Sehun, too, breathed a sigh of relief. “We’re in the clear,” Baekhyun whispered, and the two Baltians straightened from their crouched positions, turning to face the Lemurian prince, who dabbed at his eyes with his sleeve before mustering a smile. “Don’t look so worried; that didn’t go too badly,” he said lightly, in response to their grim faces. 

There was an almost incredulous silence, and then Sehun snorted. “Let’s get out of here before we make any overly-optimistic judgements,” he answered, gesturing towards the open archway behind them and the moonlit courtyard that lay beyond it. 

* * *

They set up camp that night in the Steppes, a good two hours’ ride from the forests surrounding Lemuria Castle. Since young Chanyeol had been told stories of men who’d entered the Steppes and emerged only years later, usually insane by then; the grasslands were said to be impossible to navigate, uniformly green and yellow, shoulder-high grass and weeds, with little to no landmarks whatsoever. Whenever Yoora brought him on one of their few hunting trips away from Baltia, they’d always been sure to steer clear of the Steppes, a vast expanse which extended from Lemuria to Vineta.

And yet Minseok navigated it with such ease, pausing only occasionally to glance up at the sky before directing them in a particular direction. He took the lead of the group, riding ahead with Baekhyun and Jongdae on either side, holding a lamp aloft; the Baltians brought up the rear. For the first hour or so, Sehun remained on edge, checking behind them every few minutes to ensure they weren’t being followed; by the second hour he had more or less accepted that they’d made a clean escape, and was able to relax for the first time since they’d met the Lemurians in the Agartha Inn. Kyungsoo, on the other hand, was composed as always, his expression not betraying a single shred of worry. Despite the undercurrent of peril in the entire situation, riding between them, Chanyeol felt secure somehow. 

“You were right for once, Soo,” Sehun commented as Minseok halted yet again to look up at the sky. “Seems like you do navigate the Steppes using the stars.” 

“Right as _always_ ,” Kyungsoo corrected him, and Chanyeol laughed. At the sound of the prince’s laughter, his tutor’s lips curved into a smile. “And I was right on another account, too — you can really see the whole galaxy from here. See there, Prince Chanyeol — Eirene, like we saw from Lemuria, but this time you can see Vairocana _and_ Amaterasu next to her. And some other constellations I don’t even know the name of.” There was a note of wonder in his voice. “This is incredible … to think that this was out here, and we were deliberately avoiding it.” 

“We were deliberately avoiding starvation and death, which are two highly likely outcomes if you get lost in the Steppes,” Sehun countered pointedly. “Not all of us can subsist on knowledge and discovery, you know. Some of us actually need _food_ and _water._ ” 

Up ahead, the Lemurians drew abruptly to a halt. Chanyeol tightened his grip on the reins of his horse and yanked them sharply, pulling his steed to a stop as well, as did Kyungsoo and Sehun. “We should make camp for the night,” Baekhyun said by means of explanation, and Chanyeol nodded in agreement. 

“Where are we headed?” 

“Annwn, so we still have quite a distance to go,” Minseok answered for Baekhyun, and swung himself off his horse, moving around to access the tents and saddlebags strapped to the side of the animal. Jongdae, Kyungsoo and Chanyeol started to do the same, but Sehun remained on his saddle, his brow furrowed. 

“Annwn?” he repeated incredulously, naming a small town on the fringes of the Steppes, on the outskirts of Vineta.“Why there?” 

“There’s a master craftsman who lives there, and he may be able to help us identify who made the arrow,” Baekhyun said, with a nod at the quiver strapped to Chanyeol’s back. “It’s clearly not the work of any Lemurian craftsman — and I’d like to believe not a Baltian one, either, so hopefully this master can help us identify who made it.” 

“Seems like a bit of a long shot,” Sehun commented, and Baekhyun shrugged in response. 

“It’s our only chance at finding out who wants to start this war.” 

Despite the harried nature of their exit from Baltia, Kyungsoo and Minseok had come well-prepared, Chanyeol soon found. Minseok, Chanyeol, Sehun and Jongdae pitched the tents while Baekhyun and Kyungsoo collected firewood, and soon they had set up a makeshift camp site, with two large canvas tents for sleeping and a central fireplace between the two adjacent entrances. Dinner was a silent affair, a meal of bread and cheese and cold cuts consumed mutedly by the fire, washed down with Baltian spiced wine. 

“Got any of that fireflower liquor on you?” Sehun asked Minseok aloud; Kyungsoo whopped him on the back of his head in response. While Sehun cursed and clutched his head, Minseok merely smiled and handed over a leather-bound hip flask. 

After dinner the Lemurians stood and retired to their tent; Sehun and Kyungsoo followed suit, leaving Chanyeol by the fire. “Don’t stay up too late,” Kyungsoo said as they went, and Chanyeol nodded. Then he was alone, awash in warm firelight, with the entirety of the galaxy splayed against the sky above him and the immense wilderness of the Steppes stretching for miles around him. In the vastness of his surroundings, Chanyeol felt inexplicably small — as though the duty he was trying to fulfil, the mission he was trying to accomplish, was no more than a single winged achene on a dandelion head. At his feet, the fire hissed and crackled, spitting sparks upwards into the sky. 

At length he became aware of something digging into his shoulder — the leather strap of his quiver. Chanyeol hadn’t been aware that he’d still been wearing it, but now he swung it over his head and unlatched the lid, gently prising it open. Even disguised amongst arrows meant to look identical to it, Chanyeol identified the interloper immediately, drawing it from the leather case and turning it over in his hands. As Baekhyun had said, there was a small craftsman’s mark hidden amongst the blue and silver feather barbs. Chanyeol narrowed his eyes, trying to discern what it was in the dim light. 

_A unicorn?_

“So, what do you think?” 

At the sound of Baekhyun’s voice, Chanyeol lifted his head to raise his eyebrows at the Lemurian prince, who was standing in the tent opening before him, pushing the canvas flap out of the way with one hand. In response, Baekhyun nodded at the arrow in Chanyeol’s hands. “It’s quite a good replica, isn’t it?” 

“It’s pretty similar,” Chanyeol agreed, glancing down at the arrow once more. “Whoever made this must have seen or handled some of our arrows before.The fletchings are the right colour, and so is the shape of the arrowhead … but something’s clearly different.” 

“Like I told you, it’s the balance,” answered Baekhyun with a smile. He stepped out of the tent and released the flap, but instead of approaching Chanyeol directly, he headed instead for the tree where they’d tied their horses; Chanyeol watched as Baekhyun removed the bow attached to his saddle before approaching the fire and handing it to him. “Here, give it a try.” 

Amused, Chanyeol took the bow; it was slightly heavier than he was used to, polished mahogany with a leather grip. He was suddenly acutely aware of Baekhyun’s eyes on him as he notched the arrow and swung the bow up to his shoulder, pulling the bowstring back to his cheek. Forcing himself to ignore the Second Prince of Lemuria standing just inches away from him, Chanyeol closed his eyes and tried to focus on the weight of the arrow nocked in the bow. 

He lowered the bow once more and deftly switched the false arrow for one of the others in his quiver, repeating the notching and weighing process under Baekhyun’s gaze. At length he raised his eyes to meet Baekhyun’s, and returned the smile. 

“Yeah, it’s the balance. I’m surprised you could tell from just holding the arrow.”

Baekhyun laughed and seated himself next to Chanyeol by the fire; Chanyeol offered him the bow. “Thanks.” Almost lovingly Baekhyun placed the bow on his knees, resting his fingers lightly on the polished wood. “Maybe it’s because I spend too much time with bows and arrows,” he said softly, tracing the engravings with his fingertips. Chanyeol watched as Baekhyun’s fingers glided across the wood, outlining a carved word — a name, he assumed. He recognised the ancient Lemurian script from Kyungsoo’s lessons, but had never really learned to read it properly. Even so, it was quite evident what the word was. 

“Your name?” 

“Mm.” A small, wistful smile rose to Baekhyun’s lips. “My first full-sized bow, given to me on my thirteenth birthday. It was a present from — someone I cared about a lot.” Chanyeol noted the catch in Baekhyun’s voice, as though the memory hurt him, but wasn’t sure if it was right to ask. 

“A friend?” 

“A relative.” Baekhyun’s fingers tightened abruptly around the leather grip of the bow, but a heartbeat later he had released it. “She engraved these words herself.” _She?_ Chanyeol thought, and then it clicked in his head. _His mother._ Baekhyun continued staring at the carved wood for a long minute, then finally raised his head and smiled at Chanyeol. “In Lemuria, archery isn’t as much of a tradition as it is in Baltia, so my swordmasters would always get frustrated when I would rather spend time at the archery range than training with a blade.” He gave a short laugh. “So they’d come up with a deal for me — one hour of swordfighting would give me one hour at the range. It seemed like a good bargain.” 

For a moment there was silence, save the crackling and spitting of the flames.

“Prince Chanyeol —” 

“Please don’t call me that,” Chanyeol blurted, taking both Baekhyun — and himself — by surprise. Immediately he wanted to withdraw the statement, but he’d already said it, and to retract it would be even worse. Cursing himself silently, Chanyeol went on. “I mean, please just call me Chanyeol. Just Chanyeol is good — fine — I mean, I’d prefer that.” _And you called me Chanyeol just now in the Great Hall_ , he added silently, _and I liked it. Even though it was such an inappropriate emotion given the situation, I was …happy._

A pause. 

“Then … call me Baekhyun, then. Or Baek, if that’s too much of a mouthful.” 

Heat rose to Chanyeol’s cheeks, but he ignored it, and prayed that Baekhyun couldn’t see his face properly in the firelight. “Baek,” he repeated, as though trying it on for size. “Baekhyun.” 

Baekhyun coloured slightly. “Chanyeol,” he responded, pronouncing the syllables almost gingerly.

An awkward, almost embarrassed silence settled over the two of them. Chanyeol raised his eyes to the sky, then lowered them to the ground, then angled his head so he was staring at the fire, determinedly looking everywhere but at Baekhyun, sure that Baekhyun could see the flush in his cheeks. _Why did I say that?_ He demanded of himself, mentally punching himself in the face. _God, Chanyeol, way to make things wildly uncomfortable._

At this precise moment, Kyungsoo pushed open the tent flap to the Baltians’ tent, rubbing his eyes blearily. “Prince Chanyeol, you really should sleep —” then he saw the two princes seated side by side at the fire, both blushing furiously, and broke off mid-sentence, understanding instantly. Kyungsoo’s eyes met Chanyeol’s, and Chanyeol saw a twinkle of amusement in his tutor’s eyes. 

“Um!” Chanyeol shot to his feet before Kyungsoo could say or do anything. “Yes, you’re right. I’ll be, um, going to sleep now.” 

“Yes, me too.” Baekhyun said loudly, standing as well. “It’s getting late. Very late. Uh, goodnight, Pr — Chanyeol.” He bowed stiffly in Chanyeol’s direction, and Chanyeol immediately returned the gesture, bowing awkwardly as well. 

“Yes, um, goodnight, Baekhyun.” 

“Uh, yes.” Baekhyun straightened, still red in the face, and met Chanyeol’s gaze for the briefest of seconds before looking away, flushing an even deeper red. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Goodnight, Kyungsoo.” He hurried off, disappearing into the Lemurians’ tent without another word. Chanyeol watched him go, with a vague sense of embarrassment and amusement. _That was kind of cute._

From the adjacent tent opening there came a low whistle; Sehun had materialised at Kyungsoo’s elbow. “Getting it going on, eh, Yeol?” 

“Shut up, Sehun,” Chanyeol shot back, crossing the campsite in several strides and forcing his way through his tutor and swordmaster and into the tent. A lamp had been attached to the roof and several blankets had been laid out on the groundsheet, and Kyungsoo had laid out some clean clothes for Chanyeol in a corner. Forcefully, Chanyeol turned his back on the two men, unstrapped his sword from his waist, and began removing his outer tunic. 

“Don’t tear your clothes, Prince Chanyeol,” Kyungsoo said, but he sounded as though he were smiling. 

“I _told_ you there was some serious eye sex going on, way back at the tournament,” Sehun said to Kyungsoo,and Chanyeol could hear the smirk in his voice. “Seems like even _you_ are right sometimes, Sehun,” Kyungsoo agreed, clearly amused. Chanyeol felt his face heat up even further, half-embarrassed, half-exasperated that his retinue were having fun at his expense.

_“_ Would the two of you _shut up_?”

* * *

When they first pulled out of the Steppes in the late morning two days later, Sehun breathed a very audible sigh of relief, invoking a snigger from Jongdae, an exasperated eye-roll from Kyungsoo, and an amused smile from Minseok. “What?” Sehun demanded of Kyungsoo, who just shook his head in response. “I’m just glad we’re _alive_ , Soo.”

The awkwardness that had been present between the two princes a few nights before had all but dissipated over their days of travel, something that Chanyeol was fervently grateful for. As they rode side by side, Baekhyun chattered animatedly about his previous expeditions into the Steppes, and the small towns he and his two retainers had visited before along the way. Even as Chanyeol listened, he couldn’t help but smile; Baekhyun’s energy was infectious, and the Lemurian prince was in evident high spirits, his eyes alight with excitement.

By noon they had arrived at Annwn, a small artists’ village on the outskirts of Vineta. To Chanyeol, it seemed as though Annwn had come straight out of a Baltian fairytale — from the cobblestone streets right down to the quaint cottages with daintily smoking chimneys. The weather here was cooler, too — the villagers roaming the town were all dressed in capes and furs, rubbing their hands together to stay warm as they hurried down the streets. As always, Kyungsoo and Minseok had come prepared for the inclement weather, plying Chanyeol and Baekhyun with coats, scarves, capes, gloves. When Chanyeol tried to refuse a third coat, Kyungsoo merely gave him a death stare, and said, “you’ll regret this later.” 

Even from the streets of Annwn, the mountain fortress of Vineta was clearly visible; its dark Gothic spires and soaring turrets semeed like an ink blot splayed against the snowy mountain terrain. A snowstorm seemed to be blowing up in the mountains, and the winds had clearly reached Annwn, even if to a lesser extent. Despite being swaddled in layers of clothing, Chanyeol could still feel the cold penetrate through the linens and furs to his skin, and even without him saying anything, he knew Kyungsoo could tell. 

“I told you,” his tutor said with a shake of his head, tossing the refused third coat at him. 

Despite the cold, Annwn was disarmingly charming — what amazed Chanyeol the most was the wares that lined every windowsill, every shelf, sometimes spilling out onto shelves outside the stores. The town seemed to sell _everything_ , from carved wooden flutes to gilt necklaces to little china dolls that peered at him with porcelain blue eyes. As they headed down the main street, their horses clopping alongside them, Chanyeol couldn’t take his eyes off the numerous craftspeople at work — a blacksmith hammering vigorously away at an iron sword that glowed red-hot above the coals, a potter gently shaping clay on his wheel, a glassmith blowing a celadon-green sphere which ballooned out the end of a long metal pipe. He suddenly felt as though he were seven again and at his first carnival, entranced by the spectacle that surrounded him. 

“Who’s this master craftsman, anyway?” Sehun said from somewhere behind Chanyeol. 

“In Lemuria, we know him just as Master Lay,” Baekhyun answered from the front of the group, “but I’m told that’s just a pseudonym he goes by. Anyway, according to my sources, his house should be somewhere — here.” 

They came to a stop in front of a small thatched cottage. It seemed no different from any of the other houses along the street, grass-roofed and whitewashed, with a waist-high wooden paling that fenced off a small inner courtyard. The gate was open, revealing a path up to the front door. Unlike the other houses, however, the door was closed, and so were the windows — there was no indication whatsoever that anyone lived there, much less a famous master craftsman. 

“Um …” Sehun peered at the house, then back at Baekhyun. “It seems a bit … _nondescript_ , for a master craftsman.” 

The Lemurian prince himself seemed a little unsure, glancing at Minseok and Jongdae. “Well, this is supposed to be the right house, I think.” Minseok nodded, and Jongdae straightened, handing the reins of his horse to the former. 

“Well, only one way to find out, right?” 

He headed up the path towards the house while the rest of the group remained outside the gate, watching as he knocked sharply on the wooden door twice. A minute ticked by, and then a second, without any response from inside the house. After about five minutes of waiting, Jongdae reached up and rubbed the back of his neck as he tilted his head back towards the group. “Maybe he’s not —”

At that precise moment, the door swung open, revealing a dark-haired man dressed in a white tunic. He was slightly taller than Jongdae, slender, with heavy-lidded eyes and a pale, serious face. Jongdae blinked, took a step backwards, and began, “uh, are you … the owner of this house?” 

The dark-haired man’s eyes swept a cursory glance over the party waiting outside his yard, then came back to rest on Jongdae. “Yes,” he answered simply. 

“That’s great. Uh, we were told that a master craftsman called Master Lay lived here … or used to live here?” Jongdae hazarded uncertainly; the man gave no response to this statement, merely watching the Lemurian knight before him with solemn eyes. “Is he your father, perhaps—” 

“What do you want with Master Lay?” the man cut in suddenly, tilting his head to a side and observing Jongdae through clear eyes. 

“We have something that we were hoping he could examine for us. We’re told that he’s familiar with the work of all the craftsmen in the Four Kingdoms — and can identify the creator of any article, or at least the style in which it’s made.” Jongdae’s brow creased slightly under the dark-haired man’s unwavering gaze, but he stood his ground. “It’s very important that we speak to him — the fate of several kingdoms may depend on him.” 

The dark-haired man gave Jongdae an appraising stare, then his eyes trailed over the group once more, resting for a moment longer on Baekhyun and Chanyeol than the others. After what seemed like an endless pause, he stood to a side, gesturing into the house. “Please come in, your Highnesses. We’ll speak inside.” 

The two princes exchanged glances, but nodded their thanks, handing the reins of their horses to Minseok, who began tying them to the posts of the wooden paling. Jongdae brightened, and his usual cat-like smile spread over his face. “Thank you so much, sir. We are very grateful to you and your father —”

“My father?” the dark-haired man repeated, surprise clearly evident on his face. Then the confusion disappeared, and an amused smile of his own rose to his lips. “You’re mistaken. Whom you’re looking for is not my father — _I_ am Master Lay.” With that he turned and swept into the house, leaving Jongdae standing by the door, stunned and sheepish. 

Sehun sniggered. “Nice going.” 

The inside of the house was dark, low-ceilinged, and dimly lit by firelight emanating from a room at the far end of the narrow corridor, which Master Lay now led them towards. As Chanyeol’s eyes adjusted to the light, his surroundings slowly came into focus; it wasn’t that the corridor was narrow, but rather, the space was significantly reduced by several large shelves jutting out from the walls that ran the length of the passageway. Covering every available space on these shelves were intricate wooden dioramas — carved replicas of landscapes, monuments, buildings and streets, carefully coloured and then coated with lacquer, which gave it a muted shine in the flickering firelight. Chanyeol could recognise models of Vineta, Annwn, Lemuria,, Baltia — even the _palace_ of Baltia, replicated in its entirety. Eagerly his eyes sought out the tower where his room was, and, to his amazement, found that there was even a tiny figure standing in its window, a faceless boy with hair the exact same shade as his. Or was he just imagining it?

“Chanyeol, look,” Baekhyun breathed; somewhere to Chanyeol’s left, the Lemurian prince was examining a diorama of Lemuria Castle, wide-eyed. As Chanyeol approached, Baekhyun pointed out a small, golden-haired figure standing in the castle’s archery range, readying himself for a shot at the target. He turned to look at Chanyeol with shining eyes. “Do you think that’s —”

“Ahem,” said a voice from up ahead; both princes turned, startled, to find that Master Lay had reached the end of the corridor. The rest of their companions were similarly scattered across the corridor, examining the dioramas with great interest; Sehun and Kyungsoo, Chanyeol saw, were standing over a model of their hometown, debating over the details, and Minseok and Jongdae were crouched, scrutininsing some of the dioramas on the lower shelves. “I’m very flattered by your interest in my work,” said the craftsman; even though he was silhouetted against the light, Chanyeol thought he saw Master Lay smile. “But we have business to attend to, don’t we?” 

Somewhat sheepishly, the six men straightened and followed Master Lay into the central living room, a small, circular space with a fireplace at one end and several wooden benches surrounding it. There was a kettle hanging over the fire, steam rising from its spout. 

“Have a seat,” Master Lay said, gesturing at the benches as he approached the fire and peered into the kettle. “Ah, it seems our tea is boiling.” He lifted the kettle off the fire and began pouring tea into wooden mugs he’d laid out beforehand on the mantelpiece; to his surprise, Chanyeol counted exactly seven. 

Kyungsoo, evidently, had noticed as well. “You were expecting us, Master?” 

“Please, call me Yixing,” the dark-haired man said with a smile, turning around with a tray bearing the seven steaming cups. “And yes, I did anticipate that someone would be coming to see me very soon, about that arrow. That’s precisely why I left my mark on it.” 

“Your mark?” Jongdae repeated, as he accepted a wooden mug of tea. “ _You’re_ the one who made the arrow?” 

Yixing nodded; his smile didn’t waver, though the light in his eyes darkened a little. “I was approached and asked to make an arrow that was a precise replica of a Baltian arrow. Of course I found it a little suspicious.” The craftsman finished distributing mugs of tea and replaced the wooden tray on the mantelpiece, before seating himself on a small wooden stool right next to the fire. 

“But you did it anyway?” 

Yixing shot Jongdae a cold stare. “I am a craftsman, sir. It is my trade to accept comissions, regardless of what they are.” 

Jongdae held up his hands, as though in surrender. “No, no, I understand. No offence meant.” 

“Master —” Baekhyun began, then corrected himself. “Yixing. If you don’t mind me asking, how did you know that _we_ _—”_ here he gestured at himself, then at Chanyeol, “— were coming?” 

Yixing turned to look at Baekhyun, and his expression softened. “A hooded man comes to ask me for a replica of a Baltian arrow,” he said at length, “and when he comes to collect it, he unwittingly leaves behind a button from the uniform of a Lemurian soldier. A week later, I hear that the old king of Lemuria has passed away, and that his younger son was absent from his funeral procession.” Baekhyun looked away, almost abashed. “Clearly something is at work — and from the South, I hear that the prince of Baltia has vanished, as well.” 

Sehun gave a start. “Surely it’s not _public_ news?” 

“No,” Yixing answered serenely, and relief spread across Sehun’s face. “I merely have friends in all the Four Kingdoms, who keep me updated on local events. It’s not public — just that the young prince, who stands at the window of his tower every day, has not been seen for days.” Here his gaze shifted to Chanyeol. “And of course, I have seen both of your Highnesses before, with your companions.” At this, Chanyeol thought of the small figure standing at the tower window in the diorama of his home, and the golden-haired archer in the model of Lemuria Castle, and his eyes flickered to the open doorway. There were so many questions he wanted to ask, but he knew there wasn’t time. 

“Yixing, if I may,” Kyungsoo said, cutting into his train of thought. “You said that the man who asked you to make the arrow left behind a button?” 

Yixing nodded. “From the uniform of a Lemurian soldier,” he repeated. 

The colour drained from Baekhyun’s face, and his eyes met Chanyeol’s. _A traitor_ , they said, and Chanyeol nodded. Baekhyun turned to the craftsman, forced a smile, and said, “do you think we could see that button?” 

A moment later the golden button was resting in his palm, burnished metal, embossed with the crest of the Lemurian royal family. “It’s one of ours,” he confirmed, and then glanced at Minseok, who was standing behind him. “A general, isn’t it, Minseok?” 

His aide nodded, and Baekhyun’s fingers closed around the button, gripping it so tightly his knuckles went white. “So it’s true,” the prince said, and his voice shook slightly. “There’s a traitor in Lemuria, who killed my father.” There was a brief silence, and then Baekhyun turned to face Yixing once more. “Is there any way you could help us identify him? Do you remember what he looked like?” 

Yixing shook his head. “Regrettably, no. He was heavily cloaked, and kept his hood up the entire time — it was pure chance that he left behind that button.” He paused, and then went on, “though I must admit, up till that moment, I had no idea that Lemuria was involved. I knew that at least two kingdoms were involved — but I thought it had been Baltia and Vineta.” 

“Vineta?” Sehun spoke up immediately, his eyes narrowing. “Why would you say that?” 

“The man spoke with a trace of a Vinetan accent,” Yixing responded, and there was a collective intake of breath from the six men before him. The craftsman set his own mug of tea down on the floor and clasped his hands together before continuing. “Initially I assumed he was from around here — in Annwn, we have a slight Vinetan accent as well. But soon I realised that he was trying very hard to disguise his accent, leaving it somewhere between Vinetan and Lemurian.” 

There was a long silence following his words. 

“Three kingdoms, not two,” Jongdae spoke up at length, staring hard at the ground. “This is worse than we thought.” Before he could say anything else, there came another knock on the front door. All six pairs of eyes flashed to the darkened hallway, and Chanyeol felt his stomach fill with dread. 

Yixing stood. “I’ll go see who it is.” 

Jongdae rose as well, a hand rising automatically to the hilt of his sword. “I’ll come with you,” he said to the craftsman, who nodded solemnly. The two of them disappeared down the dark corridor. 

Slowly, being careful not to make a sound, Sehun rose to his feet, gesturing for the others to do the same as well. Chanyeol’s heart started pounding, but he did as instructed, gingerly setting aside his mug of tea and standing. The three other men in the room complied as well, following Sehun to doorway, where they pressed themselves against the walls on either side of the door, ready to ambush whoever came through the corridor next. Baekhyun, Minseok and Kyungsoo concealed themselves behind the wooden door, while Sehun and Chanyeol stood on the opposite side, fingers curled around the grips of their swords, waiting. Chanyeol strained his ears to hear what was going on at the front door, but couldn’t make out what was being murmured. 

Then there were footsteps in the corridor once more, becoming quicker and more urgent as they neared the living room. _That sounds bad_. Sehun and Chanyeol glanced at one another, and exchanged nods. 

In a flash Sehun’s sword was out of its sheath and at the neck of whoever it was standing in the doorway; instead of cutting flesh, however, the flat of the blade made contact with metal, clanging against the edge of Jongdae’s sword. “Just me,” Jongdae said with a smile, and Sehun took a step back, lowering his sword with an _almost_ apologetic grin. 

“Didn’t sound like you. Who was it?” 

Yixing appeared in the corridor behind Jongdae. “A messenger, from Lemuria. One of my friends must have directed him here.” 

“Lemuria?” Baekhyun stepped out from the shadows behind the door, eyes wide. The colour had drained from his face, as though he had already anticipated what Jongdae was about to say.“There’s news from home?” 

Jongdae nodded, sheathing his sword and raising a rolled-up piece of parchment clenched in his other hand. “Not good, I’m afraid. The coronation has taken place. Crown Prince — no, King Junmyeon has ordered that the troops set out at dawn the day after tomorrow.” 

There was a brief silence in which the group absorbed the weight of his words. In the flickering firelight, Baekhyun seemed to grow even paler.

“We still need more time,” Sehun said grimly. “Prince Baekhyun, you have to convince your brother to delay the attack.” 

Baekhyun nodded. “I know.” He looked up at Chanyeol, but the light in his eyes was distant; Chanyeol could almost see the gears in his head turning. “I could write a letter. But if we sent it via homing pigeon, Junmyeon would never believe that it was from me. He would insist that it was a forgery, a ploy by Baltia.” 

“Not if I delivered it,” Jongdae interjected. He had still been hovering in the doorway, but as he spoke he walked forwards until he was standing just in front of Baekhyun. His voice was low and urgent as he spoke. “My lord, if I hurry I might be able to make it back to Lemuria by sundown tomorrow.” 

Baekhyun looked pained. “But, Jongdae —”

“You’ll be safe with Sehun and Prince Chanyeol,” Jongdae cut him off before Baekhyun could finish his sentence. Then the knight paused, cleared his throat, and added, “and Minseok and Kyungsoo, of course. Minseok in particular — one look at his face would finish off any bandit, or assassin, even before his sword got to them.” 

“Don’t worry, Jongdae, there’s no need to care about my feelings,” Minseok said pointedly from behind Baekhyun. 

Jongdae flashed him a grin. “Always thankful for how understanding you are, Minseok. But as I was _saying_ , you don’t actually need me around, my lord. And I’m much more use to you if I can get your message to King Junmyeon in time and convince him to hold off the attack until you return.” 

There was a long pause as Baekhyun deliberated this proposal. Chanyeol knew how he felt — there mere thought of either Sehun or Kyungsoo leaving his side filled him with dismay, and beneath that, a sort of petulant reluctance. But what Jongdae was saying made sense too — at this point, he was the only one out of their entire party who could leave the group and execute that critical task. Chanyeol knew that, and he knew that Baekhyun knew it too. 

At length the Lemurian prince nodded. “Alright.” There was a clear note of demurral in his voice as he addressed the group, and Chanyeol could see the effort it had cost him to agree. “Jongdae will return to Lemuria with my message to Junmyeon alone, while —”

“I’ll go with him,” Yixing, who had been silent all this while, abruptly spoke up; all six pairs of eyes flashed to the craftsman, who was still standing in the doorway. He clasped his hands together and inclined his head. “I made that arrow, after all. I should take some responsibility for what has happened. And at the very least, if King Junmyeon doesn’t accept your story, I’m living evidence that the arrow _wasn’t_ Baltian, and there isn’t a need for war.” 

“Thank you, Yixing,” Baekhyun said softly. His eyes met Jongdae’s once more. “If you can hold off the attack for even one, two days, that would be — ” _It’s not enough,_ Chanyeol thought, and evidently Baekhyun knew this too, because he couldn’t bring himself to complete the sentence. “I just — we just need enough time to find out who the traitor is and stop him before he gets what he wants.” 

Chanyeol nodded. “So from here, we’ll have to travel onwards to Vineta,” he said, and his thoughts flickered to the Gothic mountain fortress, a smudge of black in the midst of the swirling snowstorm. 

“Vineta’s pretty closed up right now, though — not just anyone can get into the city,” Jongdae said, and his brow furrowed. “At a usual time there wouldn’t be any difficulty, but right now they won’t want either of your Highnesses within their city walls. You’ll need someone on the inside to sneak you in.” 

“I have informants in Vineta,” Sehun said, “who can help us make the necessary arrangements to get into the city. But from there, I’m not too sure how we’ll proceed about finding out who this Vinetan-general-masquerading-as-a-Lemurian is.” 

“I have a friend in Vineta who might be able to help us,” Kyungsoo said suddenly. His eyes were thoughtful, and he pursed his lips. “Emphasis on might. But he’s an old friend of mine, and he owes me a favour. It’s not much to go on, but it’s better than nothing.” 

“So it’s decided, then,” Chanyeol said, looking straight at Baekhyun, who nodded, somewhat morosely. “Jongdae and Yixing will return to Lemuria, and the rest of us go up north to Vineta.” The other five men in the room nodded in agreement, and Chanyeol went on. “We’ll find out who the traitor is, return to Lemuria, and expose him before it’s too late — and hopefully stop this war before it escalates into something beyond our control.” 

But even as he said that, he couldn’t help but feel as though it was already out of control: the war looming over their heads was an unstoppable force, a swirling standstorm, and the six — now seven — of them were just rock formations in the desert, standing in the hurricane, but unable to stop the wall of sand that crashed through them. 

* * *

**v.**

_qui non vult fieri desidiosus, amet_ — let the man who wishes not to be idle, fall in love. 

* * *

They stood in dark, silent, vertical rows stretched across the stone path, not a single person breaking from the lines or uttering a word. Draped in furs and cloaks drawn up to his nose, Chanyeol remained obediently in the queue, trying to keep his eyes on Sehun in front of him — yet he couldn’t entirely resist the urge to look up once in a while and take in the leviathan glory of the castle fortress that loomed before him. The entryway itself was massive and ominous, dark stone, rimmed with spikes; armoured Vinetan soldiers paced the battlements, eyes roaming over the lines of people queueing to get past the gatehouse and into the city.

The massive stone-and-brick walls that rose on either side of the stone path leading through the mountains and up to the city did little to block out the snowstorm; the bitter wind still blew ferociously, whipping up the edges of their cloaks and sending the heavy fabric billowing. The wind made any conversation impossible: any attempt at speaking was drowned out by the wailing of the snowstorm and any will to speak was doused by the cold, so Chanyeol merely huddled deeper into his numerous layers and shivered. 

“Next!”

The space before one of the guardhouses cleared up, and Chanyeol moved forwards hurriedly to fill it, almost tripping over his cloaks in his haste. With numb fingers he fumbled in his pockets for the false identification papers Kyungsoo had somehow procured, and extended them to the guard with trembling fingers. The guard seated in the stone-walled gatehouse seized it roughly, flicking idly through the papers and scanning their contents. 

“How long will you be in Vineta?” 

“Till nightfall tomorrow,” Chanyeol answered, his voice muffled by the fabric drawn over his mouth. The guard gave him an appraising look, glanced at the papers, then back at Chanyeol, squinting slightly. _Breathe,_ Chanyeol reminded himself, but against his will, his heart sped up. 

“For what purpose?” the guard pressed, his eyes narrowed. 

“On business?” Chanyeol hazarded, then instantly regretted it. The guard’s brow furrowed further, and he turned over the papers several times, evidently searching for something. His heart hammering furiously now, Chanyeol sent a panicked glance up at the rest of his travelling party, who had passed through the gateway with no issue and were waiting for him further down the stone tunnel. Sehun started towards them as the guard began to rise from his seat. 

“Sir, I think you should come with —”

“Is there an issue?” a second voice cut in smoothly from behind; Chanyeol half-turned to see a Vinetan soldier with light brown hair standing at his shoulder. The guard instantly stood to attention, saluting the newcomer stiffly. 

“Captain. Just a routine check. This man’s papers—”

Before the guard could complete his sentence, the brown-haired man reached past Chanyeol and lifted the papers off the counter, bringing them level with his gaze. Chanyeol swallowed. 

“They seem perfectly valid to me,” the brown-haired man said after the briefest of pauses. Chanyeol exhaled in relief, almost deflating visibly as the tension ebbed from his body. The brown-haired man handed the papers back to Chanyeol, who folded them and stowed them back in the folds of his cloak. “I’m sorry for the delay,” the former said with an apologetic smile; Chanyeol shook his head. 

“Not at all.” 

“Shall I escort you into the city?” the brown-haired man offered, and Chanyeol stiffened automatically. 

“Oh, that won’t be necessary —”

“I insist,” the Vinetan captain countered with a gleaming smile. He extended a gloved hand towards the tunnel where Sehun, Kyungsoo, Baekhyun and Minseok waited; Sehun had one hand buried in his robes near his hip, presumably on the hilt of his sword. Chanyeol tried to catch the former’s eye and send him a silent message to stand down, but it was too dark. 

The brown-haired man was still waiting. Chanyeol glanced back at him, mustered a smile of his own, and nodded. 

They started down the dim tunnel; there were footsteps echoing at him from either sides as other travellers traipsed towards the city, but Chanyeol couldn’t concentrate on anything but the brown-haired man’s presence at his side. His fingers itched towards the sword concealed at his side, but the Vinetan captain had a hand idly resting on his own blade; there was no way Chanyeol could beat him to the draw. And now that he was in the city, he was essentially trapped. Not even Sehun could fight his way out of this fortress if it came to it. Their only bet had been getting into and out of the city unnoticed.

_Breathe_. 

They were nearing the others now. Sehun was still tensed, poised to draw his blade if necessary; Baekhyun and Minseok stood on either side of him, and Baekhyun had one gloved hand on Sehun’s elbow, cautioning him against doing anything rash. _Thank goodness,_ Chanyeol thought, but there was still an agitated glint in his swordmaster’s eyes. _Don’t do it, Sehun,_ the Baltian prince prayed. 

Finally they came to a stop before the other four. Sehun started forwards, towards Chanyeol, but Kyungsoo was the first to speak. 

“Luhan?” 

The brown-haired Vinetan captain broke into a wide smile. “It _is_ you.” 

Sehun froze, clearly perplexed; the confusion in his eyes was reflected in Baekhyun and Minseok’s eyes, and doubtlessly his own as well, Chanyeol thought. Simultaneously, Kyungsoo’s face lit up, and he stepped towards the brown-haired man, placing one hand on his shoulder. “Thank goodness you got my message,” Chanyeol’s tutor said, lowering his voice as he spoke. 

The Vinetan captain, Luhan, nodded, and his smile brightened. “It almost fell into the wrong hands, but I intercepted it in time.” Here he broke off, casting a glance at their surroundings, and lowered his voice to a whisper to match Kyungsoo’s. “Anyway, it’s not safe here. Follow me.” 

He turned away abruptly, cloak swishing, and started striding briskly down the tunnel towards the city. Kyungsoo followed his lead, and, slowly starting to understand, Chanyeol followed suit as well. 

* * *

Luhan’s home was located along a narrow by-street a safe distance from the main gate, one of many identical thatched-roof cottages lining the dark streets of Vineta. The snowstorm provided the perfect cover as they traversed the streets, which were dimly lit by gas lamp-posts sporadically spread out through the city; between the poor lighting and the furiously swirling snow, Chanyeol himself could barely recognise his travelling companions, much less the other dark shadows that trudged past.

When they finally ducked out of the snow and into the fire-lit warmth of Luhan’s cottage, Chanyeol’s eyes were starting to hurt from the wind, and his fingers, stuffed deep into his pockets, were numb from the cold. Luhan shut the door behind them, locked and latched it. 

“You came at a wrong time,” he said with a smile as he began undoing the clasps around his neck and let his cloak fall away from his shoulders. “The weather’s horrible these days.” 

“Don’t just _leave_ your cloak on the floor, dear,” a voice came from behind them, alerting them to another presence in the room; all six turned to see a dark-haired young woman in a maroon tunic standing on the hearth with her arms crossed and an eyebrow raised.

“Sorry, dear.” Luhan immediately scrambled to pick up his cloak and hang it up on the hat-stand near the door, under the watchful, almost exasperated gaze of the dark-haired young woman; he then crossed the room to kiss her on the cheek lightly and place an arm around her waist. “This is my wife, Xiaotong,” he said to the men still standing near the door; Kyungsoo and Minseok nodded, while Sehun gave a jaunty wave. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Xiaotong said with a smile, inclining her head. She then tilted her head to look up at her husband, and asked, “aren’t you going to introduce our guests, Lu?” 

“Oh, of course. This is an old friend of mine, Kyungsoo,” Luhan said, gesturing to Chanyeol’s tutor, who inclined his head in turn. “Kyungsoo helped me out of a sticky spot I was in, quite a number of years back, on one of my travels to Baltia. And these are … ” he trailed off as his eyes roamed over the rest of the group, then broke into a sheepish smile. “Sorry, I don’t really know who you are, but I can guess. Would any of you happen to be Prince Chanyeol of Baltia?” 

There was a moment of silence before Chanyeol spoke up; “that would be me.”

Xiaotong’s eyes went wide. “Oh, pardon me for being rude, your Highness.” 

“No, don’t worry about it. We’re very sorry to have to intrude in this way,” Chanyeol returned, mustering a smile in spite of his exhaustion. He cast a sideways glance at Baekhyun, who still hadn’t stirred, looking uncomfortable. “And this is Prince Baekhyun of Lemuria.” 

“Lemuria —?” Luhan’s eyes widened immediately, and almost immediately he stepped forwards, pushing his wife behind him as though to shield her. His gaze zoomed in on Kyungsoo accusingly. “Soo, you never mentioned any of this. Why would you —”

“We didn’t have a choice,” Chanyeol cut him off before Luhan could even finish his sentence. Surprised at himself, but unable to stop here, he went on, “Lemuria and Baltia _are_ on the brink of war, that is true. But there’s an external ploy to cause conflict between the two nations, and so we need your help. _Please_.” 

Luhan’s eyes flickered from Chanyeol to Kyungsoo and then back to Chanyeol again; Chanyeol could almost see the gears in his head turning as the Vinetan captain tried to come to a decision. There was a moment of tense silence. 

Then Xiaotong pushed her husband’s outstretched hand aside and pushed past him to the centre of the room; a protest from Luhan died on his lips at one glance from his wife. “Well since you’re here already, your Highnesses,” she said, turning back to face the group hovering near the door, “why don’t you tell us what’s going on, and we’ll see if we can help you in any way.” 

Chanyeol felt a surge of relief cascade through him, and next to him, Baekhyun exhaled loudly. “Thank you, madam,” the Lemurian prince said, sinking immediately into a low bow, which brought a smile to the young woman’s lips. 

“Xiaotong will do. But before we speak, how about some dinner?” 

* * *

In the aftermath of their tale, Luhan was very silent.

They were seated on low stools around the fire, with mugs of warm mulled wine clutched in their hands. The Vinetan captain was seated on an armchair facing the fireplace while his wife was perched on the armrest, stroking his hair; as Baekhyun narrated, he had listened attentively, nodding and asking the occasional question. At the mention of Vineta’s involvement, however, he had stopped saying anything, and after the Lemurian prince had finished, Luhan had turned to face the fire, and stared into its depths mutely. 

A minute ticked by, and then another. After exchanging a glance with Chanyeol, Baekhyun spoke up hesitantly. “I understand if you’re reluctant to believe that Vineta is responsible,” he began, slowly, “and I do agree that the evidence is tenuous — all we have is the word of an Annwn craftsman. But it’s the only lead we have, and at this point —”

“It’s not that,” Luhan said suddenly, looking up directly at Baekhyun. His lips pulled into an uneasy smile, though his eyes remained clouded. “I don’t doubt your tale, I just —” he broke off and took a deep breath; Xiaotong’s arm curled protectively around his shoulders. “No, I do believe you. I’ve been aware that something has been going on for some time now, I just didn’t know it was this serious. And I’m trying to think of how I can help you in this situation.” 

Sehun leaned forwards, eyes narrowing. “Sorry, stop and rewind. You knew that something was going on?” 

Luhan turned to face the Baltian swordmaster and nodded. “It’s not so much ‘I _knew_ something was going on’, but more of ‘I _felt_ something was going on’.” His fingers tightened around his tankard of wine, causing his knuckles to go white. “Weird things have been going on for months.” Luhan’s mouth twisted into a smile. “But maybe you already knew that, General Oh Sehun.” 

Sehun blinked, but didn’t give away any other indication that he was surprised. “If you can have informants, so can I,” the Vinetan captain said by means of explanation. “Some of them might even be the same people, and others are easily bought. I'd be more careful with who I trust — especially Vinetans.” 

The room descended into uneasy silence, and then Luhan abruptly realised what he’d said. “Oh, no! I’m not talking about me.” He forced a laugh, but it did nothing to ease the palpable discomfort. “I mean, I owe Soo a big favour, anyway. No seriously, you can trust me. _Anyway_ ,” he said hastily, “weird things have been happening for months. As you may know.” 

“I heard things about the increased security checks,” Sehun offered, evidently feeling bad for Luhan, “but nothing much past that.” 

Luhan nodded. “Increased security checks were one thing. They suddenly started stepping up the patrols and holding even more frequent military exercises not just within the city, but outside the city walls as well — on the mountainside, particularly on the side facing Lemuria. Then a nightly curfew was suddenly imposed, for no reason whatsoever.” His brow furrowed as he spoke. “And at night — I’ve been seeing weird flashes of light from Annwn whenever I’m stationed at the castle gate for patrol duty. Receiving coded messages isn’t strange, but it’s a cipher I’ve never come across in all my years.” 

Kyungsoo raised an eyebrow. “And no one ever asks any questions about this?” 

The Vinetan captain shook his head ruefully, then gave a small laugh. “Maybe because I only see it when I'm in places I'm not supposed to be. It probably isn't visible from the main battlements — but I see it whenever I’m up in the left tower of the castle.” He paused, then went on, “I’ve always wondered who the message is for — because I’m pretty sure the message is only visible from the castle itself.” An uneasy laugh. “There’s never a response, though, so I can’t be sure.” 

“This is a lot of highly confidential information,” Sehun observed wryly, “which serendipitously aligns with our perception of the situation.” Kyungsoo shot him a glare, but Sehun merely raised his hands in mock surrender. “I’m just pointing out a fact.” 

The light in Luhan’s eyes darkened immediately. “I may be Vinetan, but I have a conscience too,” he shot at Sehun. “Meddling in the affairs of the other kingdoms — and trying to incite war — is too much.” Then his expression softened, and he added, with a glance at Kyungsoo, “besides, I’m telling you all this information as a friend, not as a soldier for my kingdom.” 

A small smile rose to Kyungsoo’s lips, and he nodded. “Thank you, Lu.” 

“About that cipher,” Baekhyun said suddenly, drawing the attention of the room once more, “do you think you could try and recall some — or even just a part — of the message for us?” 

Luhan shook his head. “I’m sorry — it was too fast, and I couldn’t understand any of it.” Before Baekhyun could respond, the Vinetan captain suddenly said, “but, if you’re up for it — no guarantees that there’ll be any transmissions tonight, but I can get you into the tower. Not all of you, though — maybe just one or two.” 

Chanyeol opened his mouth to speak, but Minseok beat him to it, speaking up for the first time that evening. “Sehun and I will go,” he said, with a glance in the former’s direction; Sehun nodded. Both Chanyeol and Baekhyun started to protest, but Minseok said simply, “it’s too dangerous for either of your Highnesses to head right into the middle of a Vinetan military installation, especially if it isn’t absolutely necessary.” 

“But —” Baekhyun began. 

“Minseok and I will go and see,” Sehun agreed, cutting off the Lemurian prince mid-sentence. “We’ll just take a look and then be right back — and between us, we can probably recognise all the Lemurian and Baltian signal ciphers there are.” 

“But —” Chanyeol tried to speak. 

“It’s best if your Highnesses both stay here,” Kyungsoo interjected, preventing Chanyeol from even articulating his objection fully. “Don’t be difficult,” the prince’s tutor added with an admonishing glare, and both Chanyeol and Baekhyun closed their mouths and looked away, like abashed schoolboys. 

Sehun stood and readjusted the scabbard hanging from his waist. “Shall we get going, then?” 

Both Luhan and Minseok rose as well, and the three men headed for the door. After slinging their cloaks over their shoulders and pulling their hoods over their heads, they vanished into the darkness outside. 

It was the longest, most excrutiating two hours of Chanyeol’s life. While Kyungsoo and Xiaotong remained seated, staring meditatively into the fire, the two princes paced up and down the hearth, unable to sit still. None of them breathed a word; the only audible sounds were Chanyeol and Baekhyun’s muffled footsteps on the carpeted ground and the crackling and spitting of the fire. _Nothing’s going to happen to them_ , Chanyeol kept telling himself, _they’re going to be fine._ Occasionally his gaze would meet Baekhyun’s, and he would see his own worry and frustation reflected in the other prince’s eyes. Chanyeol wanted to say something to comfort him, but the words escaped him, smothered in his own anxiety. 

It felt as though the three men had been gone forever when the door finally burst open and Sehun appeared in the doorway. A relieved smile started to spread across Chanyeol’s face, but the light in Sehun’s eyes was wild, and he was panting, as though he had been running.

Xiaotong stood, a hand over her mouth, but Sehun shook his head. “No, nothing has happened. We’re all alright.” Then he paused, and corrected himself, “well, _something_ has happened. We were seen, but we all got away. Now we’ve got to go.” His gaze shifted to Baekhyun, Chanyeol and Kyungsoo, all of whom were standing immobile on the hearth, staring at him uncomprehendingly. “Well, boys,” Sehun said with his usual cheeky grin, “who’s up for a midnight run?” 

Luhan had gone ahead to the city’s south gate to make sure they could get through smoothly, Sehun shouted over the wind as they hurried through the dark streets. Minseok had gone with him, then continued down the mountain to Annwn to get the horses ready for their departure. Behind them, there was a flurry of activity; the castle was alight, with lamp-bearing soldiers running across the battlements, searching for the intruders. _It won’t be long_ , Chanyeol thought, _before they realise that we’re gone._

“Was there a message?” Baekhyun shouted back to Sehun, who nodded. 

“Later,” he said by means of explanation. 

Luhan met them at the opening of the stone they had passed through only hours earlier; this time, however, it was completely deserted, devoid of both soldiers and other travellers. “I sent them away,” he said, “but we haven’t got much time.” As he spoke, he reached out to grip Kyungsoo’s shoulder with one hand, and the two men’s eyes met. 

Kyungsoo returned the gesture, gripping Luhan’s arm tightly. “Thank you for all your help, Lu,” he said. “I owe you one, now.” 

Luhan shook his head with a smile. “No, we’re even now.” A smile spread across Kyungsoo’s face as well, and he nodded. “The next time I see you, though,” Luhan added, “you can buy me a drink.” 

Kyungsoo laughed. “Of course.” 

“We have to go, lovebirds,” Sehun called from somewhere further down in the tunnel. Chanyeol could just barely see the outline of his figure in the dim light. 

“Thank you, Luhan,” Baekhyun said as he passed by the Vinetan captain to join Sehun up ahead. Luhan inclined his head in acknowledgement; when he looked up once more, his eyes met Chanyeol’s. 

“Thank you,” Chanyeol tried to say, but Luhan merely smiled. 

“Do your best to stop this war, your Highness.” 

Then he patted Kyungsoo on the shoulder and turned away, hurrying in the opposite direction, up towards the city. Kyungsoo turned to Chanyeol and gently prompted him to continue down the tunnel towards Sehun and Baekhyun. Even as he complied, Chanyeol couldn’t help but glance back at Luhan’s retreating figure, almost invisible now in the darkness. _There are so many people helping us,_ the prince thought as he ran down the darkened archway, his footsteps echoing against the stones. _Luhan, Yixing, Soo-young. Even Junmyeon to an extent._ Despite himself, his heart swelled with hope. 

_Maybe, just maybe, between all of us, we can stop this war._

* * *

“It was a Lemurian army cipher,” Sehun explained to Chanyeol and Baekhyun as they trotted through the wildgrass of the Steppes once more. Up ahead, Minseok led the way, illuminating their path with a single lamp, while Kyungsoo brought up the rear, also bearing a lamp. They had rendezvoused with Minseok at Annwn, where they had left their horses prior to heading up the mountain towards Vineta. Minseok had already saddled the animals, allowing for a speedy departure from the artists’ village and back into the wilderness of the Steppes. Chanyeol felt as though their exit had almost been _too_ smooth, but he was grateful nevertheless.

Both princes were silent, so Sehun went on. “Minseok recognised it. The message was straightforward: ‘General Y to remain in Lemuria, King J crowned’. The unexpected part was that this time there was a _reply_ from the castle — the castle keep.” 

“So it _is_ a Vinetan ploy,” Baekhyun said, and his expression hardened. “Go on.” 

“‘Protect General Y’,” Sehun quoted, and a small crease appeared in his forehead. “‘Prince B in Vineta’.” 

For a while, Baekhyun didn’t respond. At length he said, “so this ‘General Y’ is our Lemurian traitor.” The light in his eyes darkened as he spoke, and he didn’t make eye contact with either Chanyeol or Sehun. “And they know that I am — or was — in Vineta. How?” 

“Someone close to you,” Sehun suggested, but Baekhyun shook his head, still not looking at either Baltian. 

“Only Jongdae and Minseok would know. And neither of them would _ever_ —” he couldn’t even complete the thought, breaking off mid-sentence and keeping his eyes fixed on the darkness ahead. 

“There has to be some other explanation,” Chanyeol said firmly. 

“Maybe,” Baekhyun agreed, but his voice was hollow.

Up ahead, Minseok abruptly held up a hand, causing their entire party to draw to a halt. Confused, Chanyeol opened his mouth to speak, but before he could say anything, Minseok turned around, his brow knitted. “Kyungsoo, put out your lamp,” he said slowly. As Chanyeol’s tutor complied, Minseok turned down the flame of his own lamp, then extinguished it with a sharp breath. The five of them remained in the darkness for a minute or so. 

Then, from behind, somewhere in the distance: the dreaded rhythmic thumping of hoofbeats, growing louder and louder — Chanyeol could hear them echoing in his ears, almost deafening him. Or was that his heartbeat?Every sound seemed to augment itself — the susurrating of the dry grass in the night breeze, the horses’s soft whinnying, the gentle pawing of its hooves against the ground, the rustling of his cloak. _Breathe._ His breaths came in shallower, shorter bursts. For a moment, none of the five men dared stir, blanketed in the darkness, hoping that the Vinetan search party would just pass by them. Chanyeol could hear shouting as a commander barked orders to his subordinates, but didn’t dare turn to look, afraid that even the slightest movement would give them away. Out in the Steppes, he knew, there was nowhere to hide — their best bet was just remaining unseen. 

Of course, that was too much to ask. 

“Over there!” 

_Fuck._ “Scatter!” Minseok commanded, and the five of them immediately dug their heels into the sides of their horses, dispersing in five different directions. Chanyeol leaned closer to his saddle, knotting his fingers tightly in the leather reins as the stallion sped up, streaking into the darkness. 

To his left and to his right, torch-bearing Vinetan soldiers flanked him, drawing in line with his horse. _Breathe, Chanyeol._ The Baltian prince glanced silently left, then right, taking stock of his situation — two armour-wearing, spear-bearing soldiers were on either side, encircling him in a pincer formation. _Funny,_ Chanyeol thought to himself, finding himself deathly calm in spite of the immediate peril. _Just a few days ago I would’ve balked at the mere thought of finding myself in such a situation_. Time seemed to pass in slow motion — he straightened in his saddle, unslung his bow from his shoulder, reached for an arrow from his quiver. At the back of his head, he could hear the methodical thudding of his horse’s hooves against the ground, in time with the beating of his heart. Chanyeol counted his heartbeats as he notched the arrow and aimed at the first soldier to his right. _One, two. Breathe._ He drew in a deep breath, then released. 

The arrow caught the soldier in the neck, and he went topping off his horse and to the ground. As the second soldier to his right swerved to avoid the slowing stallion, Chanyeol swivelled in his saddle, a second arrow notched and ready. _Release._ The arrow sailed strong and true, pinning a soldier between the eyes, smack in the middle of his helmet slit. 

The third soldier threw his spear; Chanyeol yanked sharply on the reins of his horse. The metal-tipped spear flew between the rearing front legs of the horse and into the flank of the mount to Chanyeol’s right. As the soldier’s horse staggered, Chanyeol finished off its rider with an arrow to the temple. Simultaneously he heard the tell-tale sound of metal dragging across metal; too late, he whirled around to find his final pursuer almost on top of him, with an unsheathed blade held aloft, their horses galloping side by side. 

Chanyeol caught the crossguard of the man’s sword on the lower limb of his bow, stopping the blow mid-air; the Vinetan soldier bared his teeth and began to push downwards. His wooden bow couldn’t hold out much longer against metal, Chanyeol knew, forcing himself to think fast. _The hunting knife strapped to my arm — if I could just get to it —_

Before he could even start reaching for his knife, however, the pressure on his bow suddenly disappeared; Chanyeol looked up to see an arrow sprout from the soldier’s nape, and the latter’s eyes rolled up into his skull before he fell backwards, off his horse, crashing bodily to the ground. Confused by the sudden disappearance of his rider, the Vinetan soldier’s horse slowed as well, falling behind Chanyeol’s. Amidst the swathes of wild grass, Chanyeol caught a glimpse of Baekhyun racing alongside him, bow held aloft. Even at this distance, he could see the other prince’s smile. 

A sudden movement caught Chanyeol’s eye, and without thinking, he reached behind him into his quiver, notched another arrow, aimed in Baekhyun’s direction and fired. Baekhyun’s eyes widened, but the arrow sailed past him, barely grazing his ear, and thudded into the left eye of the soldier that had been sneaking up on him. Chanyeol saw Baekhyun’s head whipping back and forth as he processed what had just happened, and smiled to himself before casting a cursory glance at their surroundings. All the soldiers in their vicinity had been dealt with; the spots where their bodies lay were marked by the small fires where they had dropped their lit torches, flames and smoke curling up into the starry night sky. Chanyeol slowed his horse to a halt, and Baekhyun did the same, pulling on the reins of his horse to bring it in line with Chanyeol’s. 

“Thanks,” the Lemurian prince said with a smile, in between pants. Chanyeol shook his head as he tried to catch his breath as well. 

“I was just returning the favour.” 

From up ahead came the sound of more hoofbeats; both princes automatically raised their bows, arrows notched, only to find that the solo rider approaching them was not a Vinetan soldier but Minseok. At the sight of his aide, all the tension rushed out of Baekhyun’s body, and he breathed an audible sigh of relief. A wide smile spread over the prince’s face, but Minseok’s grim expression didn’t alter.

“The rest are waiting for us ahead,” he said as he drew near. “Shall we be on our way?” 

* * *

Sehun and Kyungsoo were waiting for them in a particularly dense patch of wild grass a short distance away. Sehun’s hair was matted with sweat, and there was a cut on Kyungsoo’s cheek, but both men looked otherwise unhurt, and very much alive. Like Baekhyun minutes earlier, Chanyeol couldn’t stop the wide grin that rose to his lips at the sight of his two retainers; Kyungsoo gave him an appraising look.

“You’re awfully happy, your Highness,” he observed dryly. 

Chanyeol shook his head, but his cheeks were starting to hurt. “Just glad to see you again.” 

“I’m touched. But where are we going now?” Sehun asked, raising his eyebrows at Minseok. “We may have escaped them for now, but we can’t keep running forever. And there’s nowhere in the Steppes where we could camp for the night and reasonably hope to stay hidden, now that they’re here with us.” 

Baekhyun hesitated. “I … may know a place.” He turned to glance at his aide. “Minseok, is it anywhere near here?” 

From behind, Minseok responded, “I’d say about an hour’s ride, my lord.” 

“Alright.” Baekhyun looped his fingers through his horse’s reins another time, almost nervously, Chanyeol noted. “We’ll head in that direction. Minseok, do you have the map?” As his aide began to search his saddlebags, Chanyeol nudged his horse to draw in line with Baekhyun’s.

“Baekhyun, where are we going?” he asked, softly. 

“To my … to someone whom I used to know,” Baekhyun said haltingly. The hesitance in his voice unsettled Chanyeol; he’d never seen Baekhyun this uncertain or unsure before, but chose not to push it further.

Navigating through the Steppes during the day was bad enough, and at night it was worse; Chanyeol had no idea where they were going, and neither did Sehun or Kyungsoo, but Minseok and Baekhyun led the way, stopping occasionally to consult Minseok’s map. It struck Chanyeol as slightly strange that Minseok could have navigated with such ease just a few days prior, but now needed directions — _it must be someplace they don’t go to often,_ he thought, but the notion didn’t seem right. _Then why would we be headed there now, if they’re not that familiar with this person_?Baekhyun’s hesitance and newfound reticence unsettled Chanyeol further, but he decided not to voice his unease. Sehun and Kyungsoo had evidently reached the same conclusion, remaining silent, though he could read their discomfort in their creased foreheads and furrowed brows.

When they finally arrived at their destination, Chanyeol was just about falling asleep in his saddle; as his horse came to a stop, he jolted awake and blinked up with bleary eyes at their destination. It was a handsome log cabin with brightly-lit windows, two storeys high, concealed between two cliff-faces that formed an alcove; a single lamp hung over the doorway. 

Kyungsoo and Minseok led the horses over to a nearby tree and tied their reins around a low branch while Sehun, Chanyeol and Baekhyun ascended the steps to the front door. Baekhyun raised his hand to knock, hesitated, looked back at Minseok, who nodded, then took a deep breath and rapped on the wooden door with his knuckles. Chanyeol and Sehun exchanged glances. 

There was a moment’s pause, and then the front door cracked open a fraction, revealing a dark-haired young man’s face in the gap. “Who …” his eyes trailed over Sehun and Chanyeol, coming to a rest on Baekhyun, then widened. “Prince Baekhyun?” 

Baekhyun offered a weak smile. “Hi. Is … ”

“I’ll go get her.” The young man disappeared into the house, leaving the door ajar; Chanyeol peered in to see a living room with a lit fireplace, several leather armchairs, a low wooden table with two porcelain mugs on it, and a woollen rug stretched over the stone hearth.

“Baekhyun?” 

Chanyeol’s eyes darted to the right side of the room, where a flight of stairs led down from the second level. A blonde woman in a white linen dress had appeared at the top of the stairs, with the young man trailing behind her slightly hesitantly. “Baekhyunnie, is that you?” There was something familiar about her features that Chanyeol couldn’t quite place, as though they’d met before, though he had no recollection whatsoever of such a meeting.

“Krystal,” Baekhyun’s voice was soft. 

“It _is_ you!” In a flash, the woman, Krystal, had hurtled down the stairs and thrown her arms around Baekhyun’s neck, crushing him in a choking embrace. Baekhyun squirmed a little, but Chanyeol saw the light in his eyes soften as he wrapped his arms around Krystal as well. 

“I’ve missed you too.” 

Sehun cleared his throat. Baekhyun and Krystal broke apart, turning to face Sehun and Chanyeol in perfect unison, and at that moment, with those two identical pairs of brown eyes blinking at him, Chanyeol realised why she had seemed so familiar. 

“Oh, excuse me.” Baekhyun gave them a sheepish smile. “Krystal, this is Prince Chanyeol of Baltia.” Krystal gave a start, but she dropped into a curtsy nevertheless, looking slightly mystified. Chanyeol bowed in return, understanding who she was even before Baekhyun said the words. “Chanyeol, this is my sister, the former Crown Princess of Lemuria.” 

* * *

The dark-haired young man’s name was Jongin, and he was Krystal’s husband. “I’m sorry, but there isn’t very much space,” he said apologetically as he led the group up the stairs to the second level. They emerged on a landing, dimly-lit by a single lamp with three doorways leading into separate rooms. “The six of you will probably have to share. Maybe in groups of three and two?”

The room that Jongin showed Sehun, Kyungsoo and Chanyeol to was low-ceilinged but spacious, with a single wooden bedframe with a bare mattress on it at one end and a wooden table and chair at the other. Jongin lit a lamp hanging on an iron ring near the door, which he brought over to the table as the trio surveyed the room. “I’m sorry for the state it’s in; we weren’t expecting guests. Just give me a moment, I’ll be right back.” He disappeared back through the doorway on to the landing, presumably to show Baekhyun and Minseok to their room. 

The moment he was gone, Sehun let out a loud yawn and stretched as though preparing to sleep. “Well, since there’s only one bed, I guess we’ll have to share.” His words were met with blank silence. “ _Kidding_. I’m joking, guys. Of course Kyungsoo and I will take the floor.” 

“Hilarious,” Kyungsoo said drily. Chanyeol attempted to crack a smile, but his mind was on other matters. 

“Kyungsoo, when Baekhyun said _former_ Crown Princess —” he broke off as Jongin re-entered the room bearing a pile of sheets and duvets, which he deposited on the bed.

“I’ve brought you some extra blankets, too, for the — uh, floor,” the latter said, with a sheepish glance in Kyungsoo and Sehun’s direction. “If you need any help making the bed, or settling in or anything, I’ll be next door.” His tone was hesitant, slightly uncomfortable. Kyungsoo shook his head with a smile and nod of thanks. 

“We’ll be alright.” 

After he was gone, Chanyeol’s gaze returned to Kyungsoo, who pressed his lips together, clearly trying to piece together an explanation. “I think it happened four or five years ago — it was a rumour at the court, that the Crown Princess of Lemuria had fallen in love with a commoner.” 

“I remember,” Sehun said; his eyes were fixed on the doorway through which Jongin had disappeared. “It was a really huge deal back then.” 

Chanyeol tilted his head questioningly. “Why?” 

Kyungsoo shrugged. “The laws in Lemuria are different. Baltian dynasties tend to be shorter — each family only reigns for four or five generations, then they either die out or are deposed. Prince Baekhyun’s family has been in power for almost eighteen hundred years; it’s said that they were given a god-ordained mandate to rule Lemuria dating back to the time when the Four Kingdoms rose from the Neptunian Sea. Because of their long and proud family history, they’re especially particular about their pedigree. All royal consorts are, and have always been, at _least_ a member of the aristocracy.” 

Chanyeol’s eyes, too, drifted towards the empty doorway and the dark landing outside as he came to understand. “So when she fell in love with him, she was forced to abdicate.” 

Sehun shook his head. “She _chose_ to abdicate, which was an ever bigger deal. No Lemurian king _or_ queen, _or_ queen-to-be, has _ever_ given up their so-called ‘god-given mandate’ to be the reigning monarch _voluntarily._ It was a massive scandal not just in Lemuria but across the Four Kingdoms. You sure you didn’t hear about this, Yeol?” 

“ _Chose_?” The word sounded alien on Chanyeol’s tongue. “You can choose to abdicate?” 

Kyungsoo nodded, moving towards the bed and starting to sift through the pile of sheets. “All monarchs have that option. I’ve taught you about the Baltian kings and queens in the past who abdicated, didn’t I?” 

“King Jaejoong the Great,” Chanyeol answered automatically, “and Queen Jessica the Brave. But both of them were _forced_ to abdicate, weren’t they?” 

“Queen Jessica was forced to abdicate by a peasant revolution,” agreed Kyungsoo. “But not King Jaejoong. He voluntarily gave up the throne because he wanted to live a quiet life, and that triggered a civil war as the Twelve Lords of Baltia fought to take over. The war only took place because he had no younger siblings or heirs, of course — luckily for Lemuria, Princess Krystal had two younger brothers.”

A lump had formed in Chanyeol’s throat. “So now she has to live as a commoner.” 

“But at least she’s with the one she loves,” Sehun said with a shrug. “Seems a pretty decent trade-off, don’t you think?” 

There was a careful knock on the door; all three looked up to see Minseok standing at the door. “Sorry to interrupt,” he said cautiously, “but Princess Krystal wanted me to inform you that supper is ready, if you’d like some.” 

“That would be lovely,” Kyungsoo answered with a smile. “We’ll be right down.” Minseok nodded and disappeared down the landing; immediately, the smile dropped from Kyungsoo’s face as he turned to look at Sehun with a sigh. “I think he heard us.” 

_That means Baekhyun will know we’ve been talking about his sister,_ Chanyeol thought, but the idea didn’t fill him with as much dread and regret as it should have — instead, his mind was occupied by another thought, a seed that had been planted and was beginning to grow roots. _Don’t even think about it,_ a voice at the back of his mind — that sounded suspiciously like Kyungsoo — said; _it’s impossible for you. Don’t you remember what happened after King Jaejoong_? But the more he tried to dismiss it, the firmer the idea took hold.

* * *

Supper was a silent affair. The small kitchen, lit by flickering candlelight, was somewhat cramped with the five men squeezed shoulder-to-shoulder around the circular wooden table, seated on stools and inverted buckets. Krystal was the only one who spoke, chattering aimlessly to the group at large as she tended to the stove and stirred the contents of several pots, pausing only occasionally to direct Jongin to fetch more plates, ladle stew or serve second helpings to the men seated at the table. No one else breathed a word, either too busy chowing down bread and cheese and stew (Minseok) or too weary to. Occasionally Chanyeol would glance up across the table at Baekhyun, but the other prince always seemed distracted, either stirring his stew idly or chewing slowly with his eyes on the table.

“Well, it’s mostly quiet out here in the Steppes,” Krystal was saying as she leaned over the stove to peer under the lid of a pot, nodding satisfiedly at what she saw underneath. “Especially since no one knows how to get to this house — it’s the perfect hideout, if I do say so myself. You’ll be safe here — how long are you intending on staying, Baekhyunnie?” 

All eyes around the table immediately flashed to Baekhyun; even Jongin, who was hovering in the kitchen doorway, glanced up across the room at the Lemurian prince. Baekhyun gave a start, as though jolted out of a trance, and his eyes slowly came to focus on his elder sister’s smiling face. 

“Just till sunrise.” 

That gave Krystal pause; her smile slid from her face. “No longer?”

Baekhyun forced a smile. “I’m sorry, but we can’t.” 

Krystal nodded slowly; at length she turned away, back towards the stove, and recommenced stirring. “Something’s happened, hasn’t it?” Her face was obscured by shadow, making it difficult to decipher her expression. “There’s something you’re not telling me, Baekhyunnie. Who _exactly_ are you running away from?” 

For a while there was dead silence save the slow rhythmic scraping of her wooden spoon against the bottom of the stew pot.

Then she whirled around, and her brilliant smile was back. “Anyway, is anyone up for dessert? I’ve got some apple pie in the oven, and some spiced cider simmering over here …” 

As the rest of the group mumbled assent, and Jongin left to fetch some extra plates and mugs from the storeroom, Chanyeol uttered some excuse and exited the kitchen. Without really knowing what he intended to do, he pushed open the unlatched front door and ambled out onto the front porch, propping his elbows on the wooden banister and gazing out into the fathomless darkness of the Steppes and the star-speckled sky draped atop it. Surrounded by darkness, swallowed by silence, he felt almost at peace — detached from the war that was threatening to break out, that he was trying to stop, the lives he was trying to save, the crushing weight that all that brought down on his shoulders.

Chanyeol wasn’t sure how long he’d been standing out there when he heard the door click open behind him. He half-turned to glance over his shoulder, then turned around fully in surprise when he saw who it was. “Princess Krystal.” 

“Prince Chanyeol,” Krystal returned the greeting with a smile. Chanyeol wasn’t quite sure what to say as Krystal joined him at the banister, but her eyes were on the darkness, not on him. After an uncertain pause he turned away from her, resuming his former position, though slightly more uncomfortable due to her presence at his elbow. Krystal seemed to sense his discomfort, and gave a soft laugh. “You seem uneasy.” 

“I’m not,” Chanyeol answered automatically, then cringed as he realised how petulant it sounded, and how the statement had only revealed his discomfort even more clearly. Krystal laughed again. 

“I never thought the day would come when the prince of Baltia would be under my roof. But then again, lots of things have happened.” Her smile fell from her lips, and her voice was suddenly filled with regret. “Lots of things have changed since I left Lemuria all those years ago.” 

“Baekhyun told you,” Chanyeol guessed, “about your father, and the war.” 

Krystal nodded. “That stupid boy,” she said, half in despair, half in endearment. “He thought he could hide it from me, but I’ve been able to see through him since he was in diapers. He couldn’t lie to me even if he tried.” A rueful smile rose to her lips, but disappeared almost immediately. “Though I can only blame myself for my own ignorance — I _chose_ this life. I _chose_ to leave. I chose to live here, out in the Steppes, where no one could find us, where no one could find me and try to make me go back.” There was a note of regret — or was it anger? Chanyeol couldn’t quite tell — in her voice as she spoke. “And now my father’s dead, and I wasn’t there with him when he died.”

Chanyeol wasn’t sure how to respond, so he remained silent as Krystal went on. “And from what I’ve been told, Junmeyon’s being really obstinate. That’s just like him: by the book, inflexible, refusing to see things from a different perspective.” Her voice hardened, and her forehead creased slightly. “But I guess that’s all he can do, because he doesn’t really know how to handle the situation — he wasn’t prepared for this sort of responsibility, growing up.” The smile returned to her face again, but this time it was tinged with bitterness. “My fault, I suppose.

“I’m sorry for unloading all of this onto you,” she suddenly said, abruptly turning away from the banister to face Chanyeol. “I just needed to get it off my chest, and no one in there would really understand.” Chanyeol shook his head, indicating that it was no issue, and a small but genuine smile rose to Krystal’s lips. “Thank you, nevertheless. For this — and for looking after Baekhyunnie.” 

Chanyeol gave a start. “I didn’t really —”

“He came to visit me once, you know, following my abdication.” Krystal lowered her gaze to the wooden banister. “Three years ago. In the two years since I’d left he’d changed so much … he’d lost his baby fat, and he was almost as tall as me, taller maybe. But the change wasn’t just physical — he seemed somehow … emptier. Lonelier. Like life had lost its meaning for him, and he was just going through the motions without finding any real joy in anything. I — I thought it was my fault, because I left.” Her voice broke on the last word, and she quickly dabbed at her eyes with her wrist as Chanyeol looked away. “But he seems more alive now. Even as he was telling me about Father’s death, and Junmyeon, and the war — there’s something different about him. There’s more life in him, and a determination I’ve never seen before, like he’s found something worth fighting for.” Here she mustered a smile and met Chanyeol’s gaze squarely. “And I’m sure you’ve played a large part in bringing about that change in him. So thank you.” 

Her words faded into silence in which they just faced one another, Krystal teary-eyed and smiling, and Chanyeol trying to think of something to say. At length he said, “you were the one who gave him his bow, weren’t you, Princess Krystal?” 

As he spoke, an image came to mind: a young Baekhyun, visiting the archery range day after day, clutching his bow between pudgy fingers, desperately clinging to the only remaining link he had to the older sister he had adored and lost. Krystal nodded, and Chanyeol smiled to himself. _It all makes sense now._

“Could I ask you … another question?” 

* * *

When Chanyeol and Krystal re-entered the house, they found the other five gathered in the living room; Sehun was seated in an armchair with his forehead resting on his fingers, Kyungsoo and Minseok stood on either side of him, and Jongin was a short distance a way, leaning against the kitchen doorframe. All four of them had their eyes on Baekhyun, who was facing the fire with his back to them, a slip of paper clenched in his hand. 

None of them stirred when Chanyeol and Krystal entered the room, so Chanyeol cleared his throat to make their presence known. “Is something the matter?” 

Baekhyun turned to face them; immediately, from his expression, Chanyeol knew that something serious had happened — Baekhyun’s gaze was drawn, his face pale. Chanyeol’s eyes dropped to the crushed paper in Baekhyun’s hand, and understood. A message had come, and it wasn’t good news. “What’s happened, Baek?”

“Jongdae wrote,” Baekhyun began slowly, as though the words cost him effort to say. His voice was bitter. “He and Yixing failed. Junmyeon didn’t believe them — or even if he did, refused to listen. The troops set out at dawn, for Baltia. This is all my fault.” 

“How is it your fault?” Chanyeol burst out immediately, taking a step towards the other prince. “There was nothing you could’ve done to prevent it.” 

Baekhyun tore his eyes from Chanyeol’s, unable to meet his gaze. “I don’t know. Maybe if I —”

“Look, Baek, there’s nothing you could’ve done and that’s the truth.” Chanyeol felt himself filled with an inexplicable rage, not at Baekhyun, but at himself. “Stop blaming yourself.” Still, Baekhyun refused to look at him, incensing him further. “All we can do now is go back and find the traitor, and drag him to your brother as proof that Vineta is the one behind all of this. Baekhyun, _look at me._ ”

Before Chanyeol could stop himself he had reached out and grabbed Baekhyun’s shoulders, gripping them tightly. Baekhyun’s gaze snapped up to meet Chanyeol’s, and Chanyeol realised that the former’s eyes were filled with tears. Biting back his regret, Chanyeol managed, “come on, Baekhyun. We can do this. Don’t lose hope now.” As he spoke, he tried to focus on anything except the tears shining in Baekhyun’s eyes, like slowing his agitated breathing, Baekhyun’s bony shoulders through the linen fabric of his tunic, the ticking of a clock in the background. No one else stirred, leaving them blanketed in deafening silence. 

Then Baekhyun tore his gaze away, and pulled back from Chanyeol’s grasp. “Sorry. I need to be alone.” Then he was gone, and the front door of the house slammed shut behind him. Chanyeol’s arms fell limply to his sides, and his fingers curled into fists, his nails digging into his palms.

At length, Krystal spoke. “He won’t go too far,” she said, as though to reassure him. Chanyeol glanced up at her, and she came towards him, taking his fists in her hands. “Don’t worry about him. Just let him have some time to sort out his thoughts.” 

Needless to say, Chanyeol found it nearly impossible to fall asleep that night — in between tossing and turning he just lay awake, staring at the ceiling, his fingers knotted in the sheets. The air seemed stagnant somehow, rippling around him sluggishly; he found it hard to breathe, and his mind was abuzz, a messy cacophony of thoughts and voices and images, unable to silence. In the background he could hear a clock ticking, marking the hours as they slithered by. _Tick-tock. Tick-tock._ At the first trace of light he threw aside the blankets and left the room. 

Wrapped in a thin cloak and shivering, Chanyeol pushed open the front door of the house and stepped onto the verandah; the morning chill and humidity settled onto him like a second skin. In the distance, the sky was beginning to lighten; midnight blue fading into a dark cobalt. A cursory scan of his surroundings told him that Baekhyun was nowhere to be found; his horse was still tied to the same tree, yet Chanyeol knew instinctively that the Lemurian prince had not returned to the house the previous night. 

“There’s a path up the outcrop, a short distance that way.” 

Chanyeol whirled around at the sound of a voice, but it was only Jongin; the other man had materialised soundlessly in the doorway behind him. “I showed it to Prince Baekhyun the last time he was here,” Jongin went on, folding his arms and leaning against the doorframe. “He might have headed there.” Chanyeol nodded, but didn’t respond. “If you’re worried about him, you should go after him.” Jongin turned and disappeared back into the house. 

Chanyeol turned away from the open doorway, looking back out at the endless grasslands before him. The sky was slowly seeping into shades of navy blue.

He found the path that Jongin had spoke of quite quickly; it was a flight of stone steps set into the side of the outcrop, a narrow staircase cradled between two towering rockfaces. At the top all he could see was the lightening sky, quickly petering into a deep cerulean. Without a second thought, knowing only that Baekhyun was at the other end, he started to climb. 

At length he reached the top of the cliff, a flat expanse of grey stone. Past its edges, which fell away into nothingness, Chanyeol could see the rest of the Steppes stretching out in endless waves of towering wild-grass, which appeared almost violet in the early morning light. Baekhyun was still nowhere to be seen, but Chanyeol spotted the tips of a wooden ladder peeking out over the rock at the far end. 

As Chanyeol approached the ladder, he could see why Baekhyun had come — the cliff dropped away to reveal a daisy meadow, a small pocket of green-and-yellow-and-white in the middle of the swishing golden reeds, which framed the meadow like a painting. In the middle of the meadow, a good thirty feet down, lay the golden-haired Lemurian prince, spreadeagled against the flowers with his eyes closed. 

Baekhyun was so still that Chanyeol was sure he was asleep, but as the latter approached him, picking his way gingerly through the daisies, his eyes fluttered open. “How did you know I was here?” the Lemurian prince asked, but he didn’t sound angry. When Chanyeol just shrugged in response, Baekhyun sighed, patting the grass next to him. “Well, since you’re here, why don’t you join me?” 

Almost immediately, irrationally, Chanyeol’s heart started beating ridiculously fast, even though the other prince’s suggestion had been completely nonchalant, uttered without a single trace of embarrassment. “Um, sure.” Awkardly he began lowering himself onto the ground, wincing as he crushed some of the daisies under his weight, until he was sprawled out against the dewy grass. Baekhyun watched him with a hint of amusement in his eyes. 

“Don’t worry about the flowers too much; I’m sure they don’t mind.” 

“Oh, so you can understand how flowers feel,” Chanyeol joked, in an attempt to lighten the mood. Baekhyun’s lips curved upwards into a small smile. 

“One of my many talents,” he responded, and then fell quiet once more. The two of them remained in silence for a minute or two, side by side amongst the daisies, staring up at the sky, which had by now transitioned into a deep sapphire. Just lying there amidst the flowers, with Baekhyun at his side, Chanyeol felt a strange calmness settle over him. _I could stay here forever_ , he thought, _and I probably wouldn’t mind._

“I wonder,” Baekhyun said at length, “what happens now.” 

“Well our course of action remains the same,” Chanyeol answered, closing his eyes before continuing. “We return to Lemuria. If possible, we find your brother and stop him before it’s too late. If not, we find the traitor, and we kill him — the message that we intercepted Vineta said that he would remain in the city.” 

He heard a smile in Baekhyun’s voice. “You make it sound so simple.” 

“For all you know, the message you received last night could be wrong.” 

Chanyeol didn’t open his eyes, but he could hear the rustling of the grass as Baekhyun shook his head. “No, it was delivered by Jongdae’s falcon, and it was in his writing.” 

“Even so,” Chanyeol said, “all isn’t lost.” 

Baekhyun exhaled; a long, drawn-out sigh. “Maybe you’re right.” He paused, then went on. “And what happens afterwards — after this is all over?” Chanyeol couldn’t help but feel as though Baekhyun was asking him something else, something beyond what the question appeared to be, but he wasn’t sure how to answer — or if he _could_ answer. After a moment, he said, simply, “who knows?” 

Baekhyun was silent for a long time, and then suddenly he gasped and gripped Chanyeol’s wrist, causing the latter’s eyes to flutter open. The other prince was pointing upwards at the sky; a streak of gold had suddenly shot through the dark blue, as though slicing open the heavens. “Chanyeol, look.” As Baekhyun spoke his hand moved from Chanyeol’s wrist, weaving his fingers tightly through the latter’s. Chanyeol felt his face heat up, but didn’t pull away, curling his fingers around Baekhyun’s smaller, slender hand in response. Chanyeol wasn’t sure if he’d imagined it, but Baekhyun sounded somehow happier as he spoke again. “The sun is coming up.” 

Chanyeol’s eyes flickered to his left to glance at the golden-haired prince; there was a look of wonderment and awe in Baekhyun’s eyes, and a peaceful smile on his lips. _This may very well be,_ Chanyeol thought to himself, _the only sunrise we’ll ever see together like this._

He turned back to face the sky as the sun lit up the heavens in a dazzling array of red and gold. 

* * *

**vi.**

_ubi mors, ibi spes_ — where there is death, there is hope.

* * *

“Prince Chanyeol, could I have a word?”

Chanyeol looked up in surprise at the sound of Yixing’s voice. He was standing at the wooden dining table with Sehun and Kyungsoo, examining several diagrams of Vineta’s layout with his two retainers, in preparation for their trip up the mountain. The rest of their travelling party had headed out to make preparations for Yixing and Jongdae’s return to Lemuria, and as they had been gone for a while, Chanyeol had assumed that the craftsman and the knight had already departed. Yixing was standing in the doorway to the central living area, already wearing his cloak, with a satchel hanging from one shoulder, waiting for an answer. 

The Baltian prince glanced at Sehuun and Kyungsoo; Kyungsoo was busy writing out a message to his Vinetan contacts, while Sehun waved a hand lazily, shifting several pieces of parchment with his other. “Yeah, go ahead, Yeol.” 

Chanyeol straightened and followed the craftsman down the corridor of dioramas, towards the front door. “I’ve something quite important to tell you, Prince Chanyeol,” Yixing said as they walked, “concerning the identity of the man who requested for the Baltian arrow.” 

“You know who he is?” Chanyeol’s eyes widened. 

“Not exactly,” the craftsman replied, as they stepped into the doorway of the house, and were hit by the blinding sunlight. Chanyeol squinted as his eyes adjusted to the light, but he nodded, indicating that the other man should continue speaking. 

“When the man was here,” Yixing began, lowering his voice with a glance in Baekhyun’s direction; the golden-haired prince was standing next to Jongdae’s horse, gripping the other man’s hand tightly. The craftsman’s eyes flickered back to Chanyeol. “When he was here, he spent an awful long time staring at my diorama of Lemuria Castle,” the craftsman went on. “In particular, he was amused by the figure of Prince Baekhyun at the archery range — as though he were fond of the prince.” When Chanyeol’s eyes widened, Yixing nodded, confirming his suspicion. “I believe he’s someone quite close to Prince Baekhyun.” 

Chanyeol opened his mouth to speak, his eyes darting to Baekhyun, who was still talking to Jongdae, but Yixing reached out and gripped the prince’s arm tightly. “You mustn’t tell him. He’s too trusting — the less he knows, the better.” 

“But how do you know it’s not someone here right now?” Chanyeol demanded, lowering his voice to match Yixing’s volume. His eyes flickered from Jongdae to Minseok, who was standing a short distance behind the prince with his arms crossed over his chest.

Yixing’s lips curled into a small smile. “The man had a brand behind his left ear — a tattoo, maybe. I wasn’t too sure what it was, but I could see it quite clearly when he moved and his hair fell away. None of the men here have such a mark, so you needn’t worry.” 

“Why are you only telling _me_ this information?” was Chanyeol’s next question. Yixing looked almost surprised as he turned to face the young Baltian prince. 

“Why?” he repeated, slightly mystified, then his expression softened. “I’d thought that would have been obvious. Because out of all the people here, you’re the only one that I can be sure truly wants the best for Prince Baekhyun.” The Annwn craftsman offered Chanyeol a slightly cryptic smile. “Prince Chanyeol, you’re in love with him, aren’t you?” 

* * *

“Chanyeol. _Chanyeol._ Wake up, we’re here.”

Chanyeol jolted awake; he hadn’t even realised that he had fallen asleep in his saddle. As his eyes slowly adjusted to the light, already dim under the dense forest canopy, but even darker at dusk, Baekhyun slowly came into focus. He was holding up a lamp, and the warm golden light from the flame cast strange flickering shadows across his cheeks. Chanyeol nodded, dumbly, and Baekhyun turned away to face the rest of their group, who were slowly dismounting from their horses. 

The journey back to Lemuria had taken a total of three days. Parting with Krystal had been especially hard for Baekhyun; just before they departed he had clung to her, unmoving, while she stroked his hair and whispered something in his ear. They had remained like that for several minutes, until Minseok cleared his throat and gently reminded Baekhyun that they had quite some distance to travel. Only then had the prince reluctantly released the former crown princess and bid her farewell, and he had remained oddly silent for most of their journey through the Steppes, only opening his mouth to ask about their progress, or to suggest they set up camp for the night. 

Now as Chanyeol watched him move around the group, talking to Minseok or confirming the details of their plan with Sehun, Baekhyun seemed somewhat back to normal — his usual purposive and resolute demeanour had returned, and his eyes were hard with determination. _You’re in love with him, aren’t you?_ Yixing’s words came floating back to Chanyeol, and he abruptly froze, feeling the same embarrassment and mortification that had filled him at that moment pour through him right now. Cheeks ablaze, Chanyeol shook his head at himself, wondering. _Why did I dream about that, anyway?_ He leaned into his right stirrup, swung his left leg over the saddle, and dismounted his horse. 

Moments later they were hurrying through the underground tunnel leading to the king’s quarters for a second time, and emerged into the same dimly-lit antechamber. “We have to split up,” Baekhyun said as the final person — Minseok — clambered through the opening and onto the floor. “The message we intercepted told us that the traitor, General Y, is still in the castle. As all the troops have left for war, there would be very few high-ranking military officials remaining, so they should be easy to identify.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out the gold button that Yixing had given them. “Only generals have uniforms with these buttons.” 

“How shall we split up?” Kyungsoo asked. 

“Minseok, you and Kyungsoo take the west wing,” Baekhyun said, and the two men nodded, turning on their heels and leaving. “Sehun, the east wing. Chanyeol and I will split up and search both the Great Hall and the palace grounds.” 

“Got it,” said Sehun grimly. “Take care of Yeol, will you?” Then he, too, was gone.

The two princes exited the king’s quarters and into the inner courtyard. Facing the donjon that housed the Great Hall, Baekhyun went momentarily silent, abruptly morose; Chanyeol knew he was recalling how his father’s corpse had lain on a catafalque in that very same hall just a week ago. Under any other circumstance, he would’ve left the other prince alone, but now he reached for Baekhyun’s elbow. “Baek, now’s not the time.” 

Baekhyun half-turned, offering him a sad smile. “I know.” He sighed, then took a deep breath and nodded. “You’re right. We should be on our way —”

“Prince Baekhyun?” 

Both princes whirled around at the sound of a male voice; it was unfamiliar to Chanyeol, but Baekhyun’s eyes widened in recognition at the tall, thin figure coming towards them from the building to their east. “Kris!” he exclaimed, and a wide, relieved smile spread across his face. To Chanyeol, he said, “it’s alright, it’s just my swordmaster.” Then to the man, who continued to approach them, “why’re you here? Why aren’t you with —”

“The troops?” the other man, Kris, finished the sentence for him. “King Junmyeon had me stay here and wait for your return. No,” he broke off abruptly, shaking his head, “I should be asking _you_ where you’ve been, your Highness. You’ve been gone for a week. And who —” at this point he stopped short in his tracks, staring open-mouthed at Chanyeol, who, too late, realised he should probably have made an attempt of sorts to conceal his identity. “I’m sorry,” Kris said after a pause. “I’m very confused.” 

“Kris, there’s a traitor, ” Baekhyun blurted, his tone urgent. Kris’s eyebrows rose impossibly high as the Lemurian prince went on. “Prince Chanyeol wasn’t the one who killed Father. He’s innocent, and there’s someone else who’s trying to frame Baltia and start a war. He’s been helping me try to find out who it is — and all we know is that it’s a Vinetan general, disguised here as a Lemurian general.” 

Now that Baekhyun’s swordmaster was close enough for Chanyeol to make out his features, the Baltian prince felt as though they’d met before. Chanyeol suddenly recalled being faced with a Lemurian general in the castle gardens, the first time he’d spoken with Baekhyun, and the latter had been dragged away by his guards. There had been a general with glittering black eyes, who’d spat at his feet. _How dare you? When it’s_ Baltia _that has declared war?_

“General Kris,” Chanyeol said, and Kris’s gaze snapped to him, confirming his suspicions. _He’s the general I saw back then._ “I know it sounds unbelievable, but we have reason to believe that Vineta is responsible,” the Baltian prince went on. “And right now we need your help to find out who this traitor is, so we can drag him in chains to King Junmyeon and convince him to stop this war before thousands of people die in vain.” 

There was a long pause in which Kris’s eyes darted from Chanyeol to Baekhyun and then back to Chanyeol again. “Please, Kris,” Baekhyun said at length, and the general’s expression softened. 

“Alright,” he said slowly. “This sounds crazy, but I’ll see if I can help you. Come with me.” 

Chanyeol caught a glimpse of something behind the general’s ear as the latter turned towards the Great Hall; his hair had shifted slightly, revealing a small tattoo of sorts, an image branded into his skin. He suddenly remembered what Yixing had said to him, all the way back in Annwn, what felt like an eternity ago. Baekhyun moved to follow his swordmaster, but Chanyeol held out a hand to stop him. 

“It was you, wasn’t it?” Chanyeol said softly. Kris’s back was still to them, but he froze. “You killed the King,” Chanyeol guessed, and Kris’s silence was the answer he needed. The colour drained from Baekhyun’s face as the weight of Chanyeol’s words dawned on him, and Kris neither protested nor denied it.

Baekhyun’s voice broke. “Kris, why?” 

There was a long silence in the aftermath of those two words. Chanyeol could almost see the regret and tension in Kris’s shoulders as the latter continued to face the Great Hall, not stirring or turning around. At length the Baltian prince turned to glance at the other prince at his side; there was a look of crushing devastation in Baekhyun’s eyes as he stared at his swordmaster’s back, hurt mingled with betrayal and grief. Chanyeol’s heart seized painfully, but he forced himself to look away. _Breathe._ Slowly, his hand drifted to the hilt of his sword, hidden under his cloak.

Suddenly Kris turned around, and there was no trace of regret in his smile as he spread his arms. “Well, you were never supposed to find out, your Highness, but I applaud you both for being _very_ astute and resourceful.” _This nonchalance is a front_ , Chanyeol thought, noting the way the general avoided looking directly into Baekhyun’s eyes, _but it’s having its intended effect anyway._ Baekhyun’s lower lip was trembling. 

“You’re General Y?” 

Kris nodded, his false smile still securely in place. “Yifan is my native Vinetan name. Truly, you boys know everything, don’t you?” 

“Why?” Baekhyun repeated hollowly, still frozen where he stood, his fingers curling into fists at his sides. “My father was so kind to you. _You_ were so kind to _me_. How could you —” 

“It was nothing personal,” Kris interjected, cutting Baekhyun off before the latter could complete his sentence. “A mission assigned to me by my king back home — one that I couldn’t refuse.” But his smile was too bright, too forced; Chanyeol understood instantly, reading the hidden message in Kris’s final statement. 

“They’re holding someone hostage,” he said, and the smile dropped from Kris’s face. “Someone dear to you,” Chanyeol went on. Kris’s expression darkened instantly, and his gaze dropped to the ground; the general appeared momentarily unable to offer a response. The look of intense sorrow in Baekhyun’s eyes only deepened, and he said softly, “is that true, Kris?” 

“Prince Baekhyun,” the prince’s swordmaster said at the same time, still keeping his eyes trained on the ground, “please understand. This was never meant to be my purpose here — all those years I spent with you, my only mission was to gather information and ensure that none of what Lemuria was doing would be harmful to Vineta.” There was a note of regret in Kris’s voice now as he spoke; his voice caught on each syllable, which seemed to grate against his throat. “Then the information that there would be a royal marriage — a union between Lemuria and Baltia — which would, undoubtedly, place Vineta at risk.” 

“That’s not true,” Baekhyun countered; his voice was earnest. “The marriage between my brother and Queen Yoora would have brought peace to the Four Kingdoms. The historical feud between Lemuria and Baltia —”

“Vineta is protected by the existence of four kingdoms,” Kris shot back. “The very fact that there are _four_ kingdoms maintains the balance of power in our world. If Lemuria and Baltia were to become allies, the balance would be upset — Vineta would be weakened, unable to withstand an attack from this unified kingdom.” 

Baekhyun was shaking his head even before Kris had finished his sentence. “Kris, you know that’s not true. Junmyeon would never —”

“ _I_ know that,” Kris agreed, and he gave a short, bitter laugh. “I know that, you know that. The military junta back in Vineta doesn’t, or at least they don’t believe it.” His words trailed off into silence. 

_Military junta?_ Chanyeol thought, and a glance at Baekhyun told him that the Lemurian prince had the same question. Kris looked up at both of them, and a small smile came to his lips. “No one knows about it. The military staged a coup back in Vineta — took the king and his family hostage. Then they started enforcing tighter control, more patrols, nightly curfews, so on. Not even the citizens know what’s going on. My family — ” his voice tightened, and Chanyeol could see the effort it cost him to continue speaking. “They don’t even know their lives are in danger. When the order came, there was no way I could protest against it.” 

“But you can help us now,” Baekhyun returned, and there was the slightest hint of hope in his voice. Kris looked at him, almost in surprise, as the golden-haired prince went on. “You can help us stop this war, Kris. As long as you come with us and explain to Junmyeon, he’ll listen. Then everything will return to normal.” 

They locked eyes for a long time, swordmaster and student communicating silently. Baekhyun’s gaze was pleading, and Kris’s, though heavy with regret, was drawn, almost resolute. “I’m afraid it’s too late for that,” he said finally. “If I were to let that happen, my family would be executed immediately.” 

“Kris, _thousands_ of people will die, if we don’t stop this war,” begged Baekhyun, but Kris merely shook his head.  


“I’m sorry, Baekhyun. Thousands of lives are not worth one hair off the top of my son’s head.” 

His words rang out into the silence, seeming to echo against the four buildings framing the inner courtyard, bouncing back to the three of them. Baekhyun staggered slightly, as though his swordmaster’s refusal had dealt an actual, physical blow to him, and his eyes filled with tears. Chanyeol felt a wrenching sensation in his chest, but he forced himself to keep focused on the Vinetan general just metres before him, his fingers tightening on his sword’s hilt. 

“And I’m afraid,” Kris went on, “that I cannot let you get to Junmyeon, either.” Slowly, he reached for his waist and drew his sword, the slow _shing_ of metal on metal ringing out menacingly into the silence. “I’m really sorry for this, your Highness —”

Before he could complete his sentence, Chanyeol’s blade had already slammed into his, forcing him backwards; behind them, Baekhyun cried out, “Chanyeol, no!”, but Chanyeol grit his teeth, ignoring the other prince as he pushed down. Kris stumbled, but quickly regained his footing, struggling to keep the Baltian prince at bay. 

“Your speed is impressive as ever,” the Vinetan general managed, his face mere inches from Chanyeol’s, “I thought so, even back at the tournament.” On the final word he lunged forward and forced Chanyeol back, bringing his sword outwards in a sweeping arc. Chanyeol jumped out of the way just in time, but the tip of Kris’s sword grazed the front of the prince’s robes, slicing open the fabric of his tunic. 

“Kris, don’t do this,” Baekhyun pleaded, but his swordmaster let out a yell and charged forwards, swinging his sword down over his head. Chanyeol’s reflexes kicked in, and he held up his blade to parry the blow; metal clashed with metal. Kris ducked to a side and jabbed under his guard, but Chanyeol saw it coming; it was a good move, but one that Sehun had shown him before, and also one that Sehun had taught him to parry. He caught the edge of Kris’s sword on the crossguard of his own, then lunged towards the latter; when Kris jerked backwards in instinctive surprise, Chanyeol thrust upwards — his blade slid down the sword, caught the Vinetan general’s crossguard, then hooked the sword and forced it upwards, over his head. Kris’s sword soared upwards, tumbled overhead in a graceful arc, then clattered to the stones behind the two of them. 

Before Kris could even react, Chanyeol’s sword flashed a second time — this time he swung it downwards, then brought it up parallel to the ground, holding it under Kris’s chin. The latter’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed.

“Yield,” Chanyeol breathed. 

Then he felt a stabbing pain in his gut, and looked down — there was a golden-hilted knife sticking out of his abdomen. Kris twisted the blade and yanked it back, and Chanyeol gasped; his knees suddenly buckled beneath him and he collapsed to the ground, his sword falling from his hands. Chanyeol’s brain went into overdrive; his heart pounded in his ears, over the sound of his own laborious breathing — _in, out, in, out_ — which was suddenly deafeningly loud. In the background, he could faintly hear Baekhyun crying his name — “Chanyeol! _Chanyeol_!” but found he didn’t even have the strength to turn and look at the other prince; he was too consumed in mind-numbing pain, wracking through his body as if he were being stabbed over and over. _Poison_ , he managed to think through the agony, and suddenly Baekhyun’s face filled his vision, brown eyes wide with shock and horror, tears streaming down his face. 

“Chanyeol, stay with me,” he could hear Baekhyun say, but suddenly his eyes were burning, and Baekhyun’s image swum before them. Then Baekhyun was gone, and there came the clang of metal — the Lemurian prince had drawn his sword and charged his swordmaster, who had somehow managed to block his sword with the small dagger. Even as he lay curled on the ground with his cheek pressed against the cold stone, Chanyeol managed to catch flashes of the fight — Baekhyun and Kris sparring, then Baekhyun caught one of Kris’s blows on his crossguard, thrust the point of his sword upwards, twisted, and then pushed down. It was the same disarming manoeuvre that Chanyeol had used on him in their very first fight — how was it that he managed to notice, despite the pain — and then Kris was standing defenceless before his student, who was pointing the tip of his blade squarely at the former’s chest. 

Then suddenly the courtyard was full of people, and there were hands on him — someone cradling his head, someone gripping his hand. In between flashes of pain Chanyeol could see Sehun’s anguished face, tears shining on Kyungsoo’s cheeks. _I’m really dying, then_ , he thought, and tried to smile at them. _Don’t cry, Kyungsoo. Don’t make that face, Sehun. It’s going to be alright._ But he opened his mouth and all that escaped was a scream of utter and pure agony, and then black spots danced before his eyes and the world faded to black. 

* * *

**vii.**

_igne natura renovatur integra_ — through fire, nature is reborn.

* * *

The sun was a blazing orb in the middle of the azure blue sky, which was cloudless save a few wisps that drifted across the heavens. A drop of sweat beaded on Baekhyun’s temple and made its way down the side of his face; he wiped it off with his sleeve before it could reach his chin. While the tentage stretched overhead blocked out the direct sunlight, it did nothing about the sweltering heat; the courtiers behind him were all fidgeting uncomfortably, all of them hot and bothered. _It’ll just be for a little while_ , he thought. _Hopefully, this won’t take any longer than necessary._

“Let’s hope this finishes quickly,” said King Junmyeon of Lemuria, from where he was seated, to the left of where his younger brother was standing. Baekhyun looked down at his brother, and their gazes met temporarily. “I still have preparations to make for the wedding,” the king added with a sheepish smile, and a small smile rose to Baekhyun’s lips as well. 

A murmur ran through the crowd that had assembled in the palace courtyard, and the smile automatically dropped from Baekhyun’s face as he returned his attention to the scene before them. A man in a white robe had appeared from inside the castle, shackles around his wrists and ankles, led on a chain by a single guard and flanked by four others. Baekhyun had not seen Kris in several months, and now he could barely recognise him; in that time his former swordmaster’s hair had grown longer and messier, and he had grown thinner. Below his unruly facial hair Kris’s cheeks were hollow, and his limbs were mere sticks, looking as though they would snap under the weight of the heavy iron shackles.

As Kris was led out into the courtyard his head snapped up, and he looked straight at the royals’ tent, as though trying to find Baekhyun. Instinctively, the second prince of Lemuria stepped further into the shadows, and Kris’s handler jerked hard on the chain, causing the Vinetan general to stumble forwards and return his gaze to the front once more. 

The five guards brought him onto a small wooden dais that had been set up in the middle of the courtyard, where an armoured knight was waiting. As Kris was forced roughly to his knees on the platform, facing the royals’ tent where Junmyeon and Baekhyun were, Jongdae snapped his helmet’s visor down and unsheathed the ceremonial executioner’s sword which he wore around his waist in place of his usual blade. The dazzling sunlight glinted off the intricately carved blade as it was removed from its scabbard and hefted overhead. 

“Does the prisoner have any last words?” Junmyeon called out; his expression was drawn, his voice cold. 

There was utter silence in the courtyard; at this point Baekhyun could hear absolutely nothing save his own ragged breathing. Kris’s head remained inclined, his neck bared to the blazing sun, and to the silver sword hanging overhead.

Then he lifted his head, and a smile spread across his sallow cheeks. “This is such a lovely day to die,” Kris said aloud, and his voice rang out, oddly loud in the silence. Then the smile fell from his lips. “And I’m sorry, Baekhyun.” 

The sword flashed downwards, and Baekhyun turned away as Kris’s blood splattered across the stones. “It is done,” Junmyeon announced. As the gathered audience broke out in muted applause, the king rose from his seat; sweeping his cloak from the ornate armchair, he placed an arm over his younger brother’s shoulder almost protectively. Wrapped in his brother’s mantle, Baekhyun felt secure enough to cry, and Junmyeon pressed his lips to the top of his younger brother’s head.

“You’ll be alright,” he said softly. “Come.”

Shoulder to shoulder, the two brothers headed out from under the tentage and back into the castle. 

* * *

“To your left!”

At the sound of Sehun’s shout, Chanyeol turned, and got whacked in the forehead by the flat of his swordmaster’s blade. “Not _that_ far left, Yeol, don’t be an idiot.” Clutching his smarting forehead with one hand and lowering his sword, Chanyeol grinned sheepishly at Sehun, who wagged a finger at him reprimandingly. “What, you think I’m going to go easy on you because you just had a near-death experience? Your form is terrible.” 

“And you _smell_ terrible,” came another voice; both men looked up to see Kyungsoo standing in one of the many arched doorways leading out into the courtyard where the two of them were sparring, in full battle armour, in the sweltering sun. Chanyeol’s tutor was holding a stack of intricately embroidered gold robes, which, with a groan, the prince recognised to be his ceremonial dress for later. 

“Don’t give me that face, Prince Chanyeol,” said Kyungsoo with raised eyebrows. “You both have to shower before the ceremony, after all. I think sword practice should end here for today.” 

“Fine,” grumbled both Sehun and Chanyeol in unison, and Chanyeol handed his sword to Sehun, begrudgingly following Kyungsoo back into the palace. As they started up the winding marble steps, Kyungsoo suddenly said, “well, on the bright side, your Highness, you’ll be seeing Prince Baekhyun very shortly.” Chanyeol looked up at his tutor in surprise, but Kyungsoo’s face betrayed no emotion whatsoever. For a moment they continued trudging upwards in silence; the sunlight streaming through the scattered tower windows cast slanting shafts of light against the stone, tinted by the stained glass. 

“You knew?” Chanyeol said at length, and Kyungsoo smiled. 

“Your Highness, with all due respect, I’ve known you since you were in diapers.” 

Chanyeol hadn’t seen Baekhyun in what felt like years — it had been mere months, he knew, but their adventure together felt like a distant dream. Their exploits and escapades sounded unrealistic even in his head, but he knew that they had happened, that they weren’t just a fantasy he had cooked up in his head; Sehun and Kyungsoo agreed. It came somewhat as a relief to Chanyeol that the memories he had weren’t just an aftereffect of the poison. 

He hadn’t seen Baekhyun since that night in the inner courtyard of Lemuria Castle. When he’d finally come to he’d been back in his own bed in the palace of Baltia, with his sister at his bedside. Chanyeol could still recall that image — his sister in a chair by his bed, reading silently; Sehun standing at the window, with the morning sunlight on his cheeks; Kyungsoo bustling at the foot of his bed, soaking towels in ice water for his forehead. It was Kyungsoo who’d first noticed that Chanyeol was awake, when he came to replace the damp towel on the prince’s brow; Chanyeol was too weak to speak, but at the sight of his open eyes Kyungsoo had dropped his towel, Sehun had whirled around, and Yoora’s book had fallen to the floor with a crash. Then they were all crying, gripping his hands so tightly he was sure his fingers would snap off, and then the doctors were in the room, proclaiming it a miracle. It had since become one of his favourite memories — lying in his bed, surprised and thankful to be alive, surrounded by the three people he loved more dearly than anyone else in the Four Kingdoms. 

And in the seven months since, Chanyeol had all but fully recuperated — the wound on his abdomen had healed completely, though the layers of pale white scar tissue were still evident. They would probably remain always, a memory of Kris’s blade. As he stood in the middle of his bedchamber facing his half-naked reflection in the mirror, Chanyeol couldn’t help but stare at the wound with a horrid sort of fascination — it was a short vertical gash, surrounded by a spiralling network of scar lines, like a spider’s web. 

At this point Kyungsoo came up behind him with his inner tunic and began helping him dress, pulling it over his head and arms. “Today’s an important day, your Highness,” Kyungsoo began, lifting the first of many embroidered golden robes off a silver tray borne by a servant. “Do you want me to go over the sequence of events again, or are you familiar with it already?” 

“We’ve already had ten rehearsals in the past week, Kyungsoo,” the prince said pointedly as he held out his arms and allowed his aide to guide the heavy sleeves over them. “I’m pretty sure I could recite the sequence of events in my sleep.” 

Kyungsoo raised his eyebrows, but didn’t respond immediately, turning instead to the servant next to him. “No, not this robe. The other one.” As the servant hurried to comply, Chanyeol’s tutor placed his hands on the prince’s shoulders and gripped them tightly. Kyungsoo didn’t say anything, but Chanyeol understood what he was trying to say. Their gazes met in the mirror, and Chanyeol offered his tutor a smile. “Don’t worry too much, Kyungsoo. After all, you’ve been preparing me for this for my entire life, haven’t you?”

A small smile touched Kyungsoo’s lips, and he nodded. “After today, my job is complete.” 

“That’s not true,” Chanyeol said immediately, feeling panic bubble inside him. “You still have to keep teaching me for many years yet. I still have so much to learn. If you leave me — who’s going to tell me which spoon to use for my dessert whenever I have meals with other royals?” the words came out in a rush; Kyungsoo only laughed in response. 

“Don’t worry, your Highness. You can’t get rid of me that easily.” 

“Or me,” Sehun’s voice piped up from behind, and both Chanyeol and Kyungsoo turned to see Sehun standing in the doorway to the circular bedchamber. He had showered as instructed, and was now dressed in a pale silver tunic with an embroidered collar, and with an ivory cloak tied around his neck. “I’m beautiful, aren’t I?” the swordmaster said, gesturing to himself; as the female servants present in the room tittered and blushed, Kyungsoo answered flatly, “no.” 

Sehun ignored this rebuff and crossed the room to drape an arm over Kyungsoo’s shoulder; the latter staggered slightly. “As I was saying, no need to worry about it, Yeol. We’ll always be here for you — unless we die,” he amended, his forehead creasing slightly. His usual smile returned within seconds. “Today’s not going to make any difference whatsoever. It’s just a title, after all.” 

“It’s not _just_ a title,” Kyungsoo shot back. “It comes with additional responsibilities, too.” 

“Responsibility is a construct,” countered Sehun, and Kyungsoo rolled his eyes. For some reason, that day their usual antics brought tears to Chanyeol’s eyes. “Oh, Yeol, don’t _cry_ ,” Sehun complained, pressing his fingers to his eyes and tilting his head backwards. “You’re going to make _me_ cry, too.” Chanyeol laughed through his tears, and he could see a glimmer in Kyungsoo’s eyes too. Before either of them could react Chanyeol pulled them into a hug, embracing them both as tightly as he could. 

“Yeol, I can’t _breathe_ ,” Sehun gasped.

“Prince Chanyeol, your robes,” Kyungsoo reminded him. 

But neither of them pulled away, and the three of them just remained there, locked together in an embrace, for a long while.

* * *

_Breathe_.

As the doors to the throne room parted, sweeping outwards towards him, a light breeze rushed past, ruffling his hair slightly. Chanyeol’s body was humming with energy, alert to the minutest of sensations: the cold metal of the orb and sceptre clutched in either hand, the weight of the imperial mantle draped over his shoulders, the wisps of fur from his collar tickling his chin. 

_Breathe._

He willed himself to move forwards into the hall, trudging slowly down the long red carpet in pace with the music from the pipe organ overhead. As he passed by the rows of ivory-cloaked men and woman that lined the sides of the carpet, they all turned towards him and genuflected. Chanyeol forced himself to ignore them, and to focus on not dropping the orb and sceptre, and not falling out of step with the music. _Kyungsoo will kill me if I do,_ he reminded himself. _Breathe, Chanyeol._

At the far end of the hall, his sister waited, seated on the throne. She was dressed in a golden robe similar to his, with the same red mantle draped over her shoulders, the long velvet train curled around her feet. Chanyeol tried to estimate the distance between the two of them, and the number of steps he would have to take in order to reach the base of the steps before the throne. _Maybe ten?_ He began counting the paces under his breath; _one, two …_

When he reached nine, he passed by Kyungsoo and Sehun, who were in the first row of courtiers before the throne. Chanyeol couldn’t help but glance at them from the corner of his eye; Kyungsoo nodded encouragingly, and Sehun gave a discreet wave. The prince fought to suppress a smile as he reached the bottom of the dais, still holding the orb and sceptre, and sank to his knees; his velvet train pooled around him as he did. 

Yoora stood, and as she did, a pageboy who was standing to the side came forwards as well, bearing a navy velvet cushion with gold trimmings. He came to a stop before Chanyeol, who lowered the bejewelled orb and sceptre very gingerly onto the cushion. Inclining his head, the pageboy retreated to his former position, and Yoora came down the steps. 

Her eyes locked with Chanyeol’s, and she gave him a small, private smile. Then, slowly, deliberately, knowing full well that the eyes of every single individual in the hall were on her, she reached up for the heavy gold crown resting on her head, lifting it off her brow. Chanyeol lowered his gaze to the ground as his sister gently placed the crown on his head, and reached for the sceptre that he had relinquished just moments prior. Very softly, she tapped him on either shoulder with the ornate staff, and said, in a clear, ringing tone, “I, Yoora the Third, hereby renounce the throne of Lemuria, and from this moment forth, vest the powers and responsibilities of the Crown in my younger brother, Chanyeol the First. I hereby crown thee — King Chanyeol of Lemuria.

“Rise, King Chanyeol,” she finished, and Chanyeol stood, feeling slightly unsteady on his feet. The two siblings turned such that they were side by side, facing one another, and Yoora sank into a deep curtsy. “Your Majesty,” she said.

Then it was time for Chanyeol to climb up the steps to the throne; every atom of his being was wholly concentrated on not tripping and not letting the heavy gold crown slip on his head or fall off entirely, _breathe, Chanyeol, focus._ Then he was at the top, standing before the throne, and couldn’t resist the urge to look up at the two massive portraits of his parents hanging overhead amongst the silver and blue standards embossed with the family crest. _Mom, Dad_ , Chanyeol thought, and his heart filled with an impossible longing. _What do I do now_? 

He turned to face the crowd of nobles and courtiers dressed in ivory and silver. “Long live King Chanyeol,” Yoora said from the bottom of the steps; her eyes were shining, and her crimson-painted lips pulled into a smile. 

“Long live King Chanyeol!” an answering cry went up from the crowd, and soon became a chant. “Long live the king! Long live the king!” And standing in the midst of it all, Chanyeol had never felt more lost or alone. 

Then his eyes somehow ended up on the small party of Lemurians that had come as a special envoy to his coronation; they were seated near the back of the throne room, nestled in a far corner. Chanyeol had not seen them when he’d first entered the hall, but it was impossible to mistake that golden head of hair. Even at this distance, his gaze somehow met Baekhyun’s, and the sight of those familiar eyes filled him with a sudden burst of energy. 

He raised his fist, and the chanting intensified. 

_Long live the king! Long live the king!_

* * *

It felt as though the entire of Baltia were present at the post-coronation celebration. Chanyeol moved from group to group, speaking with generals, farmers, merchants, craftsmen, all of whom wanted to shake his hand, congratulate him, tell him how sure they were that he would make a great king. With each such platitude, Chanyeol’s unease and discomfort grew, and he wanted to refute them, to convince them otherwise before their expectations grew too high. But he knew he couldn’t, merely smiling in response, forcing the occasional laugh, and gulping down glass after glass of champagne to calm his nerves. He wanted badly to leave, but more than anything, there was someone he needed to see.

He found Baekhyun alone on one of the verandahs leading out from the sides of the ballroom, standing in the moonlight with his back to the glass doors. At the sight of Baekhyun’s slender silhouette, Chanyeol’s stomach suddenly filled with butterflies, and he hovered near the glass doors, unsure of whether he should join the Lemurian prince. Then he suddenly felt a push from behind, and stumbled forwards; a glance backwards told him that Sehun and Kyungsoo were responsible, and Sehun gave him a thumbs up before the two of them retreated back into the people thronging in the ballroom. _They’re right,_ he thought, _I’m being an idiot. Breathe, Chanyeol._ He steeled himself, then moved forwards to join Baekhyun at the marble balustrade. 

“Prince Baekhyun.” 

Baekhyun turned, and his eyes lit up. “Prince Chanyeol! I mean, _King_ Chanyeol, now,” he corrected himself sheepishly, and gave a short laugh. “I can’t believe it. You’re King of Baltia, now. So much has changed since I last saw you.” 

Chanyeol laughed, slightly uneasily. “I can’t believe I’m a king, either. It’s a bit strange to think about.” 

“You’ll make a great king,” Baekhyun answered with a smile; there was no doubt in his eyes, only the solemn sureness that Chanyeol had seen so often during the days they'd spent on the run. It had filled him with confidence back then, but did little to assuage his fears now, not with the behemoth task before him that Chanyeol feared was even bigger than himself. 

His fingers tightened around the marble banister. Maybe it was the atmosphere, or maybe it was the copious amounts of alcohol he had consumed, but he suddenly felt bold. “I’ve always wondered,” he said aloud, turning away from Baekhyun and gazing out at the city below, “what it would be like to live a normal life, not being a prince and not having to oversee a kingdom and all that. More than once —” Chanyeol's voice broke, but he closed his eyes and went on, forcing the words out. “More than once I’ve thought of abdicating to be with you. The throne could go to some distant cousin, and I — _we_ could live a simple life, like Krystal and Jongin.” 

“To be with me?” Baekhyun repeated, and Chanyeol nodded. There was no way he could stop now. 

“I don’t know when it happened, or how, or when I realised it — but I’m in love with you, Baekhyun.” After the words were out he felt as though a weight had been taken off his chest, and he laughed out loud, finally liberated from his burden. “Yes, I’m in love with you. It may sound ridiculous, but I’ve been in love with you for ages — maybe even from the moment I met you. Or maybe the moment you beat me in that archery competition, all those months ago. And so I would give up everything just to be with you — the throne, this stupid crown, Baltia.”

Baekhyun was silent, and instantly Chanyeol hated himself for saying it, knowing that Baekhyun, with his strong sense of duty and obligation and responsibility, would hate him as well for having such selfish thoughts.The terse silence dragged on, and every fibre of Chanyeol’s being was screaming at him to flee. He kept his gaze on the flickering lights down in the city, which were starting to swim before his eyes.

“Chanyeol, look at me.” 

That was a request he could not fulfil. Chanyeol’s grip tightened further around the banister till his knuckles went white. 

Then Baekhyun’s slender fingers were covering his and pulling him away from the banister, forcing Chanyeol to face him. Baekhyun’s eyes were shining. Chanyeol blinked; this wasn’t the response he had pictured. “Then I guess we feel the same way,” the golden-haired prince told him, reaching up to place a hand on his cheek. “I’m in love with you too,” he said with a small laugh, and Chanyeol’s heart soared. “And, yes, I’ve thought about abdication over and over too, since we stayed with Krystal and Jongin that night. But even though we both know that’s impossible, because you have a duty —” here Chanyeol’s throat tightened, “— I’m fine just being with you like this, too.” 

“But we can’t be together like this,” he protested, looking down into Baekhyun’s brown eyes. The latter smiled. 

“Says who?” 

Chanyeol’s brow furrowed. “I don’t understand.” 

“Well, you know, after the wedding, and Queen Yoora moves to Lemuria, the castle’s going to get plenty crowded,” Baekhyun answered, a playful smile rising to his lips. “ _Especially_ after she and Junmyeon start producing babies. What’s more, I’m going to come of age soon. If I can’t have my own castle wing, how could I possibly have enough space for all my, er, princely duties?” As he spoke, he moved away from Chanyeol and towards the banister, before whirling around to face the other prince once more. “No, I think I’d be much better off coming here to stay with my brother-in-law, to train, hunt, and … other things.” Baekhyun’s smile dimmed a fraction, and the light in his eyes softened. “That would be enough for me, if it would be enough for you.”

Chanyeol’s heart swelled, and he took a step towards Baekhyun. But the other prince had already turned away from him, pointing outwards towards the sea. “Chanyeol, look.” The tip of a vermillion sphere was starting to peek over the edge of the horizon, splaying shafts of cerise, coral and burnt orange light against the sky. Chanyeol could see the early sunlight reflected in Baekhyun’s eyes. 

“The sun is coming up,” Baekhyun murmured, just as he had that night in the Steppes, when the two of them were stretched out against the carpet of daisies, fingers interlocked. Almost instinctively, he reached out for Chanyeol’s fingers, weaving his own through them and gripping them tightly. There was the same look of awe and serenity in Baekhyun’s eyes as he watched the midnight sky fade to amber. 

But this time Chanyeol kept his eyes on Baekhyun, because he knew they had many more sunrises together to come.


End file.
